


Another Western Vampire (Different Time, Same Place)

by stalksoftly



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Cityslicker Josh, Cowboy AU, Cowboy Tyler, M/M, Not literally about vampires, Ranch Handjobs, Revenge, Trans Character, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stalksoftly/pseuds/stalksoftly
Summary: Tyler Joseph is a mysterious cowboy. Cityslicker Josh Dun doesn't know what he got himself into when he agreed to be his ranch hand for the summer.





	1. Broken Sundown

Josh responds to an ad. 

That's how he finds himself in a pick-up truck, shoddy and creaking as it weaves through traffic leading him out further out of the city and into sparse, flat lands. 

He picks and picks the cracked leather finishing on the side of his seat as the driver talks and talks. 

He picks and scrapes a nail over the soft foam interior, anything to keep his nerves in check and the white on his nails pristine. 

When the driver looks over at him, he stops.

He swears he sees twice as many lines on the man's face where the sun's been hitting it for the past hour. It's rosy too.

The driver, despite his meandering stories seemingly devoid of a destination, is observant. His words soft and slow like molasses, he says, "You nervous?"

Josh yanks his hand from the side of the seat and buries it in his pocket. Blushing, bashful, he says, "Yeah, a little."

The driver chuckles. 

"Can't blame you," he says. Josh sees a flash of pink in the valley between his teeth. "Lived in L.A. your whole life and then you sign up for a summer of ranchin'. And at Blurryface Ranch at that!"

The man rattles with a laugh and Josh thinks he can hear bones. 

"Not sure if you're brave or just a fool," he goes on. He looks to Josh with the corners of his mouth curled up. His eyes remain smooth. 

Josh swallows dryly. 

To ensure the rocking in his belly doesn't overwhelm him, Josh turns his head to look at the landscape. 

After an eternity of driving, the city he landed in has dissolved. With the houses this far apart, Josh thinks about the lack of escape routes. The neighbors won't hear him if he has to run, if he _was_ a fool for answering the ad. 

"Is Blurryface Ranch really that bad?" he says, hoping for something. Some kind of reassuring anchor to hold onto in the sea of regrets pounding away at his temples. 

He bites his lip and tastes salt. 

The driver rubs a hand across his sandpaper jaw. 

Josh goes back to picking, to imagining running through underbrush to find the main road when his cell service cuts out. 

The question shouldn't take so long to answer. 

Using his tongue, the driver pushes his worn toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. 

Finally, he says, "Tyler can't keep a ranch hand for very long." 

Josh's eyes dart back to the driver. He doesn't like this feeling, this sensation of drowning. 

"Don't give me that look," the driver says, a wide gritty grin on his face. "I've known him since he moved to town a year ago. He's a strange kid, little rough around the edges, but he's fair."

Josh squeaks out, "Fair is good." 

The driver, chatty as he's been the whole way, he goes on. 

"Ranchin's just hard work, is all. Tyler's got experience. Won't say where he came from, but he knows what he's doing. Cocky city kids usually can't keep up." 

Josh nods, a bit of relief easing the tension in his body. He's a cityslicker by all definitions, but he's far from cocky. 

"Mhm," the driver says, nodding and tapping his sinewy fingers against the wheel of his truck. "You ever ride a horse before?"

"Um," Josh answers. 

The driver gives him a strange look and bites down on his toothpick. 

The rest of the drive is devoid of chatter, just filled with the clatter of the rusted truck. 

Josh leans his head against the window, eyes focusing between the graveyard of insects splattered against it and the bloody hue of the sky behind it. 

\--

The truck jostles as it turns onto gravel and Josh is knocked out back into consciousness. 

He blinks and looks around, but everything's dark now. The only thing Josh can see is stars and the headlights of the truck sweeping the driveway. 

The driver says, "Glad you're awake now. We're here."

The truck lurches and stops before a metal gate. The piece of wood tied to it is etched with the name _Blurryface_ between two insignias Josh can't make sense of. 

"Let me call Tyler so he'll open up the fence, yeah?" the driver says, pulling a phone out of his shirt pocket. 

Josh gives him a strange look. 

"You have reception up here?" he asks. His voice is warm, velvety, from his nap. 

"We're country," the driver says, amused. "But not that country." 

He scrolls with his thumb until he finds the right name, and taps it. As he's listening to the ringing on the other end, he adds, "What kind of name is 'Blurryface Ranch' anyway?"

Josh only shrugs. 

He wondered the same thing when he read Tyler's ad on HelpX. 

Right now, he's wondering about more things than the name of the ranch. Mostly, he's wondering how he got here. Mostly, he's wondering if it's always this pitch black here after nightfall. 

A light flickers on, and a house appears in the shroud of darkness. It's about 500ft away, but Josh can see imposing windows and a small figure digging through belongings. 

Tyler, Josh assumes. 

As soon as the figure finds what he's looking for, the driver starts speaking. 

"Tyler," he says, tone even cheerier than before. "Evenin' to you too! Got your wares! Hmm. Mm. Got it." He takes the phone from his ear and the screen goes dark immediately. 

Josh can't quite make out the man's face and his palms start to tingle again. Against his own will, he digs into a hang nail on his thumb. 

The driver leans over to pat him on the leg with a heavy hand, gruff in gesture, entirely fatherly. 

"Well, Josh," he says. "It was night meetin' you. Tyler said you can just hop the gate and wander on up there." 

Josh nods, and readies himself for the dive. He opens the door and hops out, shooting the driver one final glance. He gives his best to muster an earnest smile. 

"Thanks so much for the ride," he says, voice meek. 

The driver grins and the faint headlights cast a glint over a silver tooth in his smile. 

"Take care now," he says. As a final gesture of kindness, he tacks on, "Anyone from anywhere can learn to ride a horse, you hear?" 

Josh smiles more confidently and slams the door shut. From the back of the truck, he hoists a duffel bag. 

The driver waits a moment, and Josh thanks him silently for staying long enough to illuminate the fence. He tosses his duffel bag over and hops after it. 

Gravel crackling, the truck starts to pull away, and the light goes with it. Josh is glad he can't see the swarming insects any longer, but the darkness around him feels heavier than anything he's known. It's hard to breathe. 

He pulls out his phone to illuminate the path and starts his ascent up the small slope to the figure standing in the doorway now. 

The walk feels longer than expected, but clears his head, so by the time Josh is twenty feet from the house, he's feeling much better. Somehow, he's managed to convince himself his fears from before were inflated by anxiety, manifestations of heading out into the unknown. 

He raises his hand to wave to his new host.

His confidence shatters when something slams into his right hip, full-force. 

Josh tumbles onto his ass and cries out at the attack of wetness, the lapping tongue of his assailant. He shields his face and tries to scuffle away, but the beast is persistent. It laps and laps and laps and whimpers until Josh is whimpering himself. 

Suddenly, something yanks it away. 

"What, are you afraid of dogs?" 

Josh illuminates the figure grasping the dog's collar with his phone. 

Tyler, he assumes. 

This Tyler looks far less imposing than Josh imagined. Hair cropped close, eyebrows raised, illuminated by the milky light Josh's phone, his face looks almost cherubic, especially with the swell on one side of his mouth. 

"Um," Josh starts. He likes dogs, but he's overwhelmed already. He hoists himself back up to a standing position and says, "Hi. Hi, uh, I'm Josh." 

"Hi," Tyler responds, making no move to extend his hand or introduce himself further. He knees the dog's behind to the ground gently and it sits with a whine. 

"Good girl," he says to the dog, releasing her collar. "Stay." 

"Her name's Ruby," he says, turning on one boot to make his way back to the house. "Not much of a guard dog."

Josh, clapping dust off his jeans, chuckles, already fond of his host. 

Tyler doesn't respond. 

Still, Josh is almost giddy with relief. Tyler's silhouette in the porch lamps is slim. His spurs rattle as he climbs the steps, but his step is almost feather light. Josh can't imagine why his predecessors made such a fuss, why the reviews on Tyler's profile were so scathing. 

When they reach the front door, Tyler holds it open for him and steps to the side. 

"Go on in," he says. "I'll show you your room in a second. Gotta spit." 

Before Josh can respond, Tyler drops the door onto his shoulder and turns to stand by the railing of the porch. 

From his mouth, he ejects a sharp stream of something vile into the darkness and it lands with a moist thud. Josh shudders and turns away before Tyler can read his face. 

He rubs his shoulder and steps into the house as instructed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this started out as a joke between my friend Avia (this one's for u :-*) and I, after we saw Tyler's Grammy outfit with that fucking bolo tie?! We joked and joked about a cowboy AU and then I decided to challenge myself and see if I could turn a joke into a serious fic. And here it is! I have big plans for this one and no, no, it won't be as angstysad as the last one. 
> 
> The title of the fic (and chapters) is from "Werewolf" by Cocorosie which is a really awesome song that's also fitting in theme regarding this story.


	2. Get up on That Horse

When Josh comes to, it's early in the morning. He can tell by the way the sunlight filtering into his room is a dusky shade of pink.

He can tell by the way his eyes feel like sand.

He wants to sink back into his cushions, but there's an ungodly banging on the door of his room. He's been trying to ignore it for the past ten minutes, willing it away, willing it to be a nightmare or the overly-enthusiastic dog he met the night before.

Thump thump thump, it goes on and on, with the perpetrator never seeming to tire.

He lifts a limb, heavy as cement, and digs under his pillow for his phone. The time reads 5:57. He rubs his left eye and tears up when he smears crust into his cornea.

"Alright," he murmurs. "I'm up."

The perpetrator can't hear himself over his own loud banging.

Josh forgets what he felt for his host yesterday. Fueled by irritation, he pulls himself out of his warm cocoon.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up!" he barks, and finally, the thrumming stops.

"Are you dressed?" the voice on the other side asks, light and creaking.

"No," Josh answers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His hands roam the hardwood floor for socks when the door handle clicks open.

"I said I'm not dr-" he starts when Tyler interrupts him.

His eyes are trained on the ground as he speaks. Josh gives him credit for that.

"Wear something you won't mind getting dirty, then meet me by the stable. There's an injured calf we'll have to take care of," he says, and before Josh can give an affirmative, the door clicks shut again.

The suddenly stillness is nice after all the ruckus, but it gives room for a wave of adrenaline to wash over Josh. His first day of work with a new boss, with terrible reviews online, in the middle of nowhere, performing jobs he's never done before? The train of thought hits him a hundred miles an hour and he has to take several deep breaths to ground himself. 

After he's dressed in something comfortable, casual, Josh pats his pockets and chooses to leave his wallet and phone behind. The sensation of light, empty jeans is foreign, but he continues on.

As he's shutting the door, Josh sees the room bathed in daylight for the first time.

For the first time, he notices the set of cattle horns above his bed. He doesn't think much of the western décor, until he spots the bowl of salt on his nightstand. Beside it, there's a large candle.

Josh can't help but shiver, but he also doesn't have time to dwell on his thoughts.

He makes his way to the stable.

\--

The door to the stable is wide open, but Josh still chooses to tiptoe in. He doesn't understand fully why he's so terrified, but the world around him is entirely new. He feels like a stumbling newborn.

If Tyler weren't watching him, he'd pinch himself to know this was real, to know that he wasn't still slumbering in his dim cracker box back in L.A. and dreaming of horses, small stables, hard-to-read ranchers.

"Hey," he says, nearly out of breath from his small jog over to the building. Everything here consists of wide open spaces, too wide, so wide it makes Josh feel nauseous.

"Finally," Tyler says, clearly relieved. He almost manages a smile. Josh can't pinpoint his feelings, can't decide if the knot in his stomach pulls tighter at the sight.

He beckons Josh closer with his free hand. In the other, he's clutching the reins of a horse. 

“Saddle up your horse and we'll head out to the field,” he says, handing them to Josh. 

Josh takes the leash and wonders if his spike of nausea is visible. Somehow, he feels naked beneath Tyler's gaze. Somehow, it feels like Tyler can read him about as well as he can't be read in return. 

“Right, right,” Josh says, taking it. He puts on the best charade he can muster. “What's his name?” 

“Her name is Jenna,” Tyler says, and casually walks to the stall adjacent. There's another horse there, black and shining, completely elegant and fitting for Tyler's air. Its black marble eyes give Josh the creeps.

“What are you waiting for?” Tyler says, voice cool, and Josh snaps to action. He enters the stable and immediately gets to work. 

Somehow, he thinks it can't be too difficult. He's in college getting an education, and thinking back on the requirements listed online for a ranch hand, Josh knows he has to be over-qualified. Somehow, he can do this. 

Josh notes the saddle resting at the back of the animal's enclosure. His horse, white and brown and patchy, eyes him curiously but remains still. 

He carefully lifts the saddle and momentarily stumbles because of its unexpected weight. He glances around quickly to see if Tyler is judging him, but thankfully, he's busy adjusting the bit in his own horse's mouth. 

Josh feels some kind of sympathy for the animal he's going to... ride? Mount? He tries to quell his thoughts and not think too far ahead. 

“Steady, steady,” he says to his horse, still quiet, still eying him with some degree of suspicion. 

With all his strength, he hoists the saddle over the horse's back. 

For a moment, things are still. 

For a moment, Josh ponders the buckles and straps, but only for a moment. 

Suddenly, Jenna lurches away from him. She snorts and brays and complains so that Tyler immediately whirls around from where he's buckling his own horse. 

“What are you doing?” he says. His eyes prick Josh like a thousand needles. 

Josh throws up his hands in defeat. Mentally, he calculates plane tickets. Inwardly, he makes a note of another failure, another waste of time, a failed summer job and no dent in his college debt. 

Tyler leaps over the fence enclosing Josh's horse. 

"Look," he says, roughly nudging Josh away with his shoulder. "Don't lie to me about what you can and can't do." 

As he's spitting words, Tyler pulls off the saddle and rests it on the wooden fence. He takes the blanket next to it and gently folds it over the horse's back.

He throws a glance over his shoulder, one Josh wishes he could dodge. “It puts us all in danger- do you understand that?” 

Josh nods stiffly. 

"Get the saddle and watch me," Tyler commands. With his tail between his legs, Josh complies.

He hoists the saddle from the fence again, holding it out to Tyler like an offering.

Tyler lifts the saddle from his arms and gently lays it over the horse. He pulls, tugs, gently adjusts it until he's satisfied with the fit. With a palm between the horse's armpit and the first strap, he pulls the buckle tight- tight enough for the horse to take note and snort gently. 

However, Josh takes note of something, something almost otherworldly to him. He's not sure if it's his imagination or his anxiety crafting fantasies or if he's picking up on something special. 

With Tyler's every touch, the horse is still. With every soft pat, soothing caress, the horse goes back to its complacent, pliant state. 

Mesmerized, Josh almost doesn't notice Tyler whispering under his breath. 

Almost. 

He can't make out the words, and as he's trying, Tyler suddenly addresses him directly again. Now, he's adjusting the fit of the bridle on the horse's face. 

“Do you know how to ride?” 

Josh thinks back to wilting ponies circling endlessly in the sun, to carnival music, to being five years old at the fair.

As he's hesitating, Tyler answers for him.

"You haven't," he says. His voice is so composed with the sharpest twinge of amusement that Josh starts to curl in on himself even more. “For fuck's sake.”

Josh feels invaded, Josh feels discouraged, Josh mentally extracts the cost of a plane ticket from his tiny wad of money in his backpack. Before he can focus on the negative sum, Tyler pulls him back into the moment.

"Stop sulking and focus," he says. This time his lip is swollen again, tucking away a thick slug. He's pinching the excess tobacco off his fingers and back to the round silver can in his hand. He snaps on the lid and tucks it into his back pocket, stealing a glance at Josh. 

"Listen," he goes on, words muffled by tobacco, when Josh's wounded ego won't let him answer. "Just learn by doing. Learn by watching me. I know what I'm doing and maybe eventually you will too."

With that, he opens the fence of Josh's enclosure, then his own, and returns to his horse. 

Josh bites his lip. He reigns in biting words, as he's done time and time again. With great effort, he manages a stiff smile. Compliance has always managed to be his savior and it'll do the job now.

"Yessir," he says, trying not to mock Tyler's warm honey accent, trying not to stir things further.

Tyler grabs the horn of his horse's saddle and hoists his body over its back in a motion so smooth that Josh thinks back on dancers, on a particular ex-girlfriend leaping gracefully in her ballet class, rather that of cowboys and roughians. He almost doesn't know what to do with himself, with his rush of conflicting thoughts. 

From across the stable, Tyler says, “Get on your horse, if you can. I'll ride ahead. Follow me at whatever pace you need to. If you can't ride, you can't rope, so I don't really need you for this mission, but you need to learn to control your horse as quickly as possible if you want to stay.” 

With a click of his tongue and a gentle whip of the reigns in his right fist, Tyler and his horse trot off. 

Josh covers his face with his hands. 

\--

When Josh finally arrives, his jeans are caked in mud and he's sure there's a dark bruise forming on his thigh from the tumble he took. 

Mounting his horse was the worst part. The part that appeared so effortless to Tyler, the part that brought him visions of graceful dancers. 

Josh almost forgot how grace was learned over years of practice, until he remembered, until he was reminded of his own painful lack of grace. 

He grabbed the horn of the saddle, as Tyler had done, he pushed his sneaker in the stirrup, as Tyler had done, and in pulling himself up, lost balance, sending him tumbling into hay, mud, shit, whatever else, with one foot suspended in the saddle. 

His second, third, fourth attempts were more careful and he finally managed to scurry into place atop the horse's back. 

The rest of the journey was smooth, somehow. Jenna didn't need much coaxing to get moving and she seemed to know the way, already, probably having gone to the field time and time again before. 

The horse knew more about riding than Josh did, and it almost made him weep with shame. 

She brought him to the field of cattle, slowly, steadily, giving Josh enough time to shake the better part of his anxiety and clear his head with fresh morning air. 

Mentally-exhausted, managing to ride his horse to the field is still some kind of victory in Josh's mind. 

When Josh finally arrives, Tyler already has the small, injured calf singled out of the herd like a lone water droplet from the bovine sea. The other cows have chosen to keep their distance, which Josh can understand.

Tyler doesn't look up from his work when Josh arrives, but Josh watches him, as instructed earlier. He leaves the smalltalk behind and observes, hoping to pick up on something. 

The bound animal releases a groan, something deep and guttural, but still airy enough to remind Josh of babies. He can't blame it. Its legs are tied and it heaves and heaves; Josh can hardly ease his own tension at the sight. 

In his hands, Tyler has a syringe, pulled out of the leather bag strapped across his body. While the bull struggles and kicks, Josh winces. 

Tyler lays a hand on the quaking animal's shoulder, and Josh turns away, bracing himself for the shrill cry to come.

When it doesn't, he looks back on the scene, and the animal is breathing deeply, looking almost blissful. Tyler's whispering again, whispering right until he eases the needle into the fur between his thumb and forefinger. 

Save for a reflexive twitch of muscle, the bull doesn't stir. 

There's something beautifully peaceful in the moment, something that draws Josh in like a moth to a flame. 

The stillness, the calm, the calf sighing in relief under Tyler's sun-tanned hands, somehow, it makes Josh forget all about prices and plane tickets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all, I'm so happy you guys liked the first chapter. 
> 
> This is just some... getting warmed up... setting the tone, I think? And I'm SORRY I MADE JENNA A HORSE SLFÖJLSKDJFÖLKJ but at least she's not the creepy horse, yeah?
> 
> Chapter title, again, from "Werewolf" because it's just perfect. 
> 
> <3


	3. Children's Things, A Young Mother's Love

The first week, by nighttime, Josh feels like he's lowering a bag of battered bones into bed when he goes to sleep at night. 

After his first fiasco with horseback riding, Josh chose to keep his head down. He obeyed Tyler politely and tried not to hold onto accusations of ineptitude, even if it did grate his nerves time and time again.

When they returned to the stable the first day, Josh already felt spent after only a few hours of work. 

If Tyler noticed, he didn't care. Josh was certain he didn't care. 

“I've got another job for you. Maybe this is one you can handle,” Tyler had said, sliding off his horse using the same grace he'd displayed in mounting it. 

Josh did his best to maintain his composure as he stumbled off his horse, this time with Tyler's judgmental gaze boring into him. 

All Tyler did was huff, but Josh already felt the creep of a brush settle on his face. 

“Interesting,” Tyler said, without a second glance, already stamping over to the tools tucked by the door of the stable. 

Josh bit his tongue and tentatively followed him. He was too spent for confrontation, too spent for an anxious overreaction from the primal, fearful part of his brain. 

“You're going to unsaddle your horse,” Tyler said. “Then, you're going to pick her hooves and brush her. I'll be taking care of Johnny Boy, so I'll be close by. I want to make sure you don't hurt her, yeah?”

Tyler thrust a handful of tools into Josh's hands and click, click, clicked off with his spurred heels. 

Despite the rough gesture, Josh's lips curled upward at the name 'Johnny Boy', a name so endearing he almost wanted to give the dark phantom leering at him a kiss on his velvety nose. 

Josh returned to Jenna, and despite his fear, his fear of actually hurting her as Tyler had mentioned earlier, he really felt a soft spot for her already. 

He did his best, tried his best to do his job and not act like a bumbling fool in doing so. When he faced the wrong way and tried to pick Jenna's hooves right in line so that she could easily kick him in the face, Tyler jeered and taunted him again. 

In the same way that he could soothe animals, Tyler had a knack for making Josh feel as uncomfortable as possible. 

Still, somehow, he felt the need to prove his worth. Josh wasn't sure why; this was a summer job, temporary, with low pay, but when Tyler would get a glint in his eye when he did something correctly (like brushing Jenna with a soft curry comb before the dandy brush), Josh felt empowered. 

The day that followed wasn't any easier than the one before it. Thump thump thump, the sharp rapping pulled him out sleep again in the early morning. 

This time, there was some kind of slop on the kitchen table when Josh finally stumbled out of his room, dressed, hair still sticking up in every direction. 

“Eat,” Tyler said simply, already bent over his own bowl of grits. 

Josh complied, despite being used to McBreakfasts, to late night Taco Bell runs. The food here seemed to all be home grown and devoid of all the artificial flavor enhancements he was so used to. 

Josh was hungry, though, so he devoured the grits with fervor, and waited for further instruction. 

“So,” Tyler said, taking his bowl and dumping it in the sink. He made no move to wash it right away. 

“So,” Josh said, rubbing his thighs in anticipation. 

“You're going to ride your horse again today,” he said. “I don't care where you do it, how you do it. Just get used to that. I'll be off tending the herd.” 

Josh nodded. 

“I can do that.” 

“When I get back, I'll show you how to muck the stalls,” Tyler added, tucking more tobacco under his lip. 

Josh wanted to retch at the sight of someone looking so proper, maybe even delicate, suckling on mud, but he held his composure and nodded. 

He'd stayed up late looking up YouTube videos on horse care, horseback riding. It was all theory and no practice, Josh knew that, but at least he felt like he had an inkling of knowledge now instead of stumbling around blind. 

Riding Jenna on day two was easier, even if scrambling onto her back still made him feel foolish. However, Tyler wasn't around to berate him and the horse had a mild nature. He managed to steer her away from her automated trek to the cattle field, coaxed her into looping around the stable. 

Trotting and cantering, as he'd read about in his online studies, was still too much for now. 

When Tyler returned, he seemed pleased, even with his solemn expression, even with his eyes obscured by the wide brim of his black cowboy hat. 

For the first time, he said, “Good job, Joshua,” and Josh beamed, not bothering to correct him with his preferred nickname. 

“Thanks,” he said, “You know, I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, and Jenna's pretty easy to work wi-” 

“I know,” Tyler said, and as quickly as he had opened himself up with kindness, he closed himself off again with his gruff persona. 

Tyler returned to the stable, and swung himself off Johnny Boy's back. 

He cleared his throat and slung a dark wad of spit into the hay. 

Josh shuddered at the sight. It was something he couldn't really get used to; it was so much more volatile that smoking, which he'd grown accustomed to from frequenting local shows at seedy bars and back-alley clubs. 

“Today you'll muck the stalls,” Tyler said, already sauntering over to grab a pitchfork from the back of Johnny Boy's enclosure. 

“Alright,” Josh said carefully. 

“Just sift all the shit from the hay and the wood shavings. If there's a wet spot, just toss it in the bucket as well,” and with that, Tyler was click, click, clicking off again. 

Josh sighed and got to work. 

By evening, he felt sore and worn. Working with his hands was so much more than he had anticipated, somehow requiring twice the effort of a gym session back home. 

His mental faculties were also exhausted, with circling around Johnny Boy and avoiding contact as much as possible. 

Somehow, the horse felt an aversion to Josh, perhaps the same aversion his owner projected. When he entered the stall to muck it, Johnny whinnied, snorted and stamped his feet. 

When Josh had to circle closer to tidy up the stall, Johnny's eyes would grow wide, his ears would press back. The horse's gaze, his dark shining eyes, made Josh uneasy and he struggled to hurry his work. 

By evening, he wanted to jump and holler at the thought of scrubbing the musky, equine smell off his skin and sinking into bed. 

When he entered the house, Tyler was already cleaning up his own bowl of bean chili. 

“What took you so long?” he said, without turning away from the sink. 

“Um,” Josh said. “I did my best?” He didn't have the energy for explanation or for the subsequent scoffing and derision. 

“That took way longer than it should've,” Tyler went on. “I had more things for you to do, but I had to do them myself.” 

His tone was biting. 

“I'm sorry, I'll do better next time,” Josh said, trying to deescalate and escape as quickly as possible. 

“I'll watch you. Maybe your technique is fucked up. You're a cityslicker after all,” Tyler said, already disappearing to his room. 

When next time came around, when Tyler watched Josh do his best to muck up shit and piss, he immediately found flaws in Josh's technique. 

He grabbed the pitchfork from him, and shoveled far more aggressively. He smoothed out wood-shavings with record speed. 

When he returned to Josh, he just handed him the pitchfork wordlessly. 

Josh took it and thought he would be left to his own thoughts, giving him a moment to breathe and channel his frustrations into mucking, but Tyler wrapped his arms around Josh, and placed a hand atop his on the pitchfork handle. 

Josh nearly jumped at the contact and felt his pulse double in speed immediately. 

Tyler didn't seem to noticed, as he murmured something about using one's knees and not one's back to sift through hay, but he wasn't the one with hot breath fanning over the back of his neck. 

Josh felt a blush creep over his neck as he became a unit with Tyler, despite the piles of shit, despite the glowering dark horse next to them. 

The spell was broken just as quickly as it had taken hold when Josh felt the rough wood of the handle catch his nail during their unified sweeping. 

“Agh!” Josh said, immediately stopping to inspect his thumb nail. 

“What?” Tyler said, completely unaware of the source of Josh's discomfort. 

“My nail,” he said, already running his index finger over the damage. He'd paid good money for this manicure and to see it chipped, damaged like this, irked him something fierce. 

With everything, with the stress, Josh knew he would never be able to stop picking at it now. 

“Your nail,” Tyler said,. “No wonder it took you so long. You're delicate. This is rough work, Josh.”

Josh wanted to regress, Josh wanted to cry and stamp his feet, but he merely swallowed his discomfort like a bitter pill. 

“I know,” he said. “Sir” He added the afterthought with a sharp tinge. 

Johnny Boy picked up on the change of tone, and nuzzled his face between Josh and Tyler aggressively, whinnying and snorting as he did so. 

Josh stumbled forward, nearly planting his knees into horse manure, but caught himself just in time. 

“What the fuck?” he said, on edge. “What's with your horse, dude?” He tossed a glance over his shoulder.

Tyler was all but perturbed. He softly stroked the beast's nose and said, “You know, horses are a good judge of character.” 

Josh worked with his back to Tyler, silently brewing, until the latter wandered off. 

Over the next few mornings, Josh grew more and more proficient at gently riding Jenna, grooming the horses and mucking the stalls with all the speed he could muster. They were the only tasks Tyler gave him; Tyler had emphasized the fact that Josh would have to get proficien until he could join him on his cattle-tending missions. 

His nails were in ruins and his physical and mental strength well spent by the time he'd return to the ranch house, but Josh was so thankful for his bed and his slowly growing stash of cash that he succeeded in blocking out most of the discomfort. 

One evening, he returned home before Tyler did. 

With his stomach growling, he set out to cook up something with his shaky cooking skills. 

He settled on beans and rice, a meal Tyler seemed to favor and one didn't require Michelin-tier tricks to conjure. 

Josh had the rice boiling when he decided salt would be a great addition. Rifling through Tyler's pantry brought him only labeled glass bottles of sage, angelica root, bramble, cedarwood, mugwort, St. John's wort, and other fragrant herbs he couldn't wrap his mind or palate around, when he remembered the salt on his bedside table. 

Something told him not to take it; its presence by his bed was still dubious to him, surely not just a coincidence, although he hadn't had the energy to think about it. 

Without a logical reason to really stop him, though, Josh took the small bowl of salt, and added a few pinches to the rice, as well as the beans. 

He was stirring his creation tenderly, mouth already watering, when he heard Tyler's clinking spurs stomp up the stairs. 

Tyler entered the house without a word, clearly also spent and not in the mood for pleasantries. 

Josh swiveled around. 

“Hi, uh,” he stammered. “I'm making us some dinner.”

“That's nice,” Tyler said, slipping off his boots and running a hand over his sun-baked face. 

He wandered to Josh, who was still poised over the boiling pots, and his eyes narrowed on salt bowl on the counter. 

“This,” Tyler said, taking the bowl, “wasn't meant for cooking.” He turned to place it on the kitchen table instead.

He sounded more tired than bitter, but Josh still winced. 

“Uh, ah,” he said, “I'm sorry, I didn't know, but uh, what's it for then?”

Tyler just shoved him aside and took the wooden spoon from Josh's hands. Josh was thwarted by butterflies, by something seizing his concentration on the matter at hand. All he sensed was the smell of tobacco and sweat, all he wanted was closeness. 

“I'll finish up,” Tyler said, and that was that. 

\--

By the end of the week, Josh feels like battered bones, but he finishes his chores faster and faster each day. 

Today, he comes home sooner than Tyler had anticipated; the latter is curled over the table, doodling something in a large black journal. 

Still reeking of horse, horse sweat, horse shit, with horse penetrating every inch of his skin, Josh leans over Tyler. 

“What are you drawing?” he asks. 

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin and slaps a hand over the open journal. Between fingers, Josh can still see geometric markings. 

“I didn't know you were into drawing,” Josh continues. He's close, so close he can smell Tyler's musky tobacco tainted breath when he exhales sharply. 

“I'm not,” he says, slamming the book shut. “I'm doing something.” 

For the first time, Josh sees his stoic boss flustered. Clearly, he caught him in the act of... something? Josh doesn't understand why doodling would warrant such a nervous reaction. 

“It's cool,” Josh says, unrelenting. He feels the need to latch onto the moment, he feels the thirst to find out more before Tyler comes at him with his walls towering high. “I like art too, you know? That's why I have this sleeve.” He brushes a hand of chipped nails over his arm for emphasis. 

Tyler's still stiffly rooted to his spot, breathing, breathing, refusing to look at Josh directly. 

“It's nice,” he says softly. He pulls himself out of his seat, black leather journal in hand, and charges to his bedroom like a fleeing animal. 

Josh is stumped, until he hears more of the rougher tone he's used to. 

“Shower up and we'll eat, alright?” Tyler shouts from the other room. 

Josh smiles to himself, defeated. 

That night, he drops into bed like a bag of stones, the smell of horse permanently seeped into his hair follicles. 

That night, he closes his eyes and opens them in another time, like a hazy, weary voyeur. 

A mother cries and shoves shirts, books, anything not nailed down, into bags and boxes. She tries to enter the final bedroom, not yet cleared, but something blocks her path.

A pouting, long-haired child stands stiffly in her way. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are dark, defiant. A set of horns crowns her head, from the taxidermy head behind her in the room. 

“We have to go,” the mother begs, but the child remains unmoving, silent. 

“They'll come for us too,” she continues, voice breaking. “We're not welcome here any longer. Our kind especially...” She doesn't explain. She doesn't need to. 

The child's face twitches, threatening to break. 

With a voice fuller, richer than expected, she says, “We can't leave him.” 

The mother snivels and envelopes her daughter in a desperate embrace. 

Thump thump thump, and Josh blearily blinks back to dusky pink light trickling into his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens... This is still all build-up, the next chapter is where things actually start to happen but you know I hate spoilers so I can't say more. 
> 
> I also considered naming this chapter "Swollen Lip" because Tyler sure loves his snuff but... this is fitting too. 
> 
> Glad all'a'y'all like it so far!!!!


	4. Weeping Willow

When Josh blinks back into existence, his head pounds in time with the rapping on his door. 

He can't pinpoint the feeling after his dream, but he knows that there's an unparalleled heaviness tethering his limbs to the bed, something beyond the soreness in his muscles from farm work. 

He feels more like he's only just returning to earth after a journey to another planet. 

He can hardly ponder it through the pounding on the door, though. 

Tyler is his unrelenting alarm clock. 

Josh manages a yelp, his tongue still soaked too much in sleep to form any kind of comprehensible thought, but enough to make Tyler ease up. 

Josh sits up in bed, swiping away messages on his phone from friends begging for reports on his little summer adventure. He swipes them away and does his best to wipe away the lingering feeling of the dream he was roused from, too. 

Tyler suddenly clicks open the door without warning and startles Josh. 

He yanks the blankets hastily over his crotch, a last attempt of decency. 

Tyler peeps in through the cracked door. This time, he peers up at Josh through his dark lashes, favoring his face over the ground. They're fixated so firmly that Josh wants to squirm, that Josh can feel Tyler attempting to anchor them so they won't roam. 

“Josh,” he says. 

“Good morning, Tyler,” Josh answers quietly. 

He's a bug under Tyler's gaze, locked in by an invisible pin of intensity. He swallows. 

Tyler clears his throat. 

“I want you to show me what you've learned after breakfast,” he says. “I really need you out there with me, with the herd, you know? Otherwise I might need a new ranch hand.”

Josh nods fervently. He's eager to prove himself, to prove that he's not a bumbling idiot. 

“Oh, absolutely!” he says, wriggling himself free of the blankets and his eye-lock with Tyler. He shuffles for his wrinkled jeans on the ground and Tyler's the one who swallows sharply. 

As he's shimmying his legs into the holes of his pants, he peers up at Tyler. He notices that the latter's eyes have roamed, trailed, ducked down across his abdomen and followed the thin line of dark hair, ending at the swell on his boxers. 

He feels hot, like all his blood has rushed to his face. 

He starts to chatter nervously. 

“I'm sure you'll have some corrections,” he says, pulling his jeans up and zipping the fly. “But I've been doing my research at night, and I think, I think Jenna's really a great horse to work with. I can get around now.”

Tyler quickly pulls his eyes away..

“I'm sure you can,” he says, receding from the door before Josh can blink and figure out if he's only imagining the soft pink blush creeping across Tyler's face. 

At breakfast, he shakes the thoughts from his head. 

It was the sunrise, surely, because Tyler is silent, his usual blunt, stoic self. Any attempt at conversation at the table is met with monosyllabic grunts until Josh gives up. 

He stirs his grits and tries to will himself to eat, but all he wants is to rush out to the stable. He needs to get this over with before his preemptive anxiety ripens and causes him to stumble. 

Finally, Tyler scrapes the last few grits from his bowl, and Josh passes over his half-eaten food. 

It's time to head outside, and they do, with Josh almost skipping his way to the stable. 

He can't wait for the inevitable slaughter to start. 

As he's saddling Jenna, the way he saw Tyler do with Johnny, he starts to sweat under Tyler's gaze, especially because the latter is silent. He's not sure if it's good or bad, but he works fast to hide his visible jitter. 

When Jenna is set, when she's alert and ready for future instruction, Josh turns to Tyler. 

“Alright, I'm going to uh, show you now,” he says, running a hand through his hair. 

Tyler's arm are crossed and his eyes nearly hidden by the brim of his black cowboy hat. He simply nods. 

“Alright, show me.” 

The command makes Josh weak in the knees. 

He hooks a foot into one of the stirrups and attempts to swing himself over onto Jenna's back. 

His other leg catches on the back of the saddle somehow, and he's caught in a limbo, half on, half off, with all his fears unfolding before him. 

Suddenly, Tyler's hand are on him, on the back of his thigh, to help push him over into place. It all happens so fast that Josh doesn't have the time to wrap his mind around it. 

“Fuck,” Josh says, breathless, relieved. “I usually nail it.”

“I've seen worse,” Tyler says quietly, and Josh feels thankful for the half-compliment. It's more than he bargained for already. 

“Alright,” Josh says, settling the reins in his fist, as he'd seen Tyler do before. 

He gently nudges Jenna forward and steers her out of her stable. He can hear Tyler's spurs, muted by the mud, clicking behind them. 

Outside, he steers Jenna in circles, then loops, all around the yard, his display going better than he expected. In his mind, he thanks Jenna on his knees for her compliance, her gentleness, for possibly saving his job. 

“Can you trot?” Tyler asks suddenly, no further commentary. He turns to spit on the ground behind him, a thick wad of dark goo. 

“Uh,” Josh says, nervously twisting a finger into Jenna's mane. “I'm... I'm a little afraid to.” 

Tyler tips his head back and Josh can feel his eye-rolling with every part of his being. He waits quietly with his breath hitched; he knows something biting is coming, he knows he'll have to learn to hold onto a giant, heaving animal while it runs at full speed or go home, neither good options for him. 

He doesn't know how to feel. 

“Well,” Tyler says with a sigh. “We don't have all day, and I'd like you to learn some things about cattle.” 

With a wave of his hand beckoning Josh to follow him, he turns on his heel to return to the stable. 

When Jenna passes through the threshold of the open stable door, Tyler motions for Josh to stop. 

Clumsily, Josh pulls the reins and Jenna halts. 

“Get down,” Tyler commands.. 

Josh scrambles from the saddle and lands softly on the dirt floor. 

Tyler takes his black leather pack from his side and walks to Jenna. He strokes her fur softly and she leans into him, stirring something inside Josh, something like endearment, something like fascination. When he starts to hook his bag on her saddle, Josh can't help his curiosity. 

“You're taking her?” Josh asks, but Tyler doesn't answer him. 

He simply steps a boot into the stirrup and hoists himself onto Jenna with the same grace he always displays. 

Once he's settled, he says, “Get on behind me.” 

“What?” Josh says. 

Tyler narrows his eyes. 

“Get up here with me and sit behind me. We'll trot out there together. Maybe you won't piss yourself if I'm up here with you.”

He pulls his foot out of the stirrup to give Josh something to step onto. 

Josh is taken aback. Josh can't form words. He doesn't know why he suddenly feels a double dose of jitters coursing through his veins. 

He takes a step forward and eyes the obstacle before him. 

“Get the stool if you need to,” Tyler says. His voice is cool, indifferent, a stark contrast to Josh's bundle of nerves. 

Josh grabs the stool, the one that's home to mold and cobwebs, and places it next to Jenna.

Josh gives him one final look and Tyler nods. 

He steps up, places his sneaker in the stirrup, the one Tyler freed for him, hesitantly plopping one hand on Tyler's shoulder. 

He swings his leg over, and this is fair easier, with the stool, the added height. He tries to make a note of it in his mind as he eases himself into place. There's no wiggle room with how he's wedged between the back of the saddle and Tyler's back.

Josh doesn't know what to do with his hands, and as he's fumbling with them, trying to place them somewhere on the saddle back behind him, Tyler says, “Put them around my waist.”

Josh complies, and gently wraps his arms around Tyler's waist. His nose is in the back of Tyler's neck, and the first thing he can smell is tobacco, musky and thick, then sweat, then something smokey, herbal. It clouds his head like a special sort of perfume. 

When he exhales a shaky breath, he swears he sees goosebumps rise on the nape of Tyler's neck, but before he can think about it, Tyler's pulling Jenna's reins to steer her out of the stable. 

As they're leaving, he meets Johnny Boy's eyes and swears he can feel a sneer on the horse's face, but he isn't sure. 

He isn't sure about anything right now. 

“Hold on tight,” Tyler says, and before he can comply, Tyler kicks, setting the horse into a steady trot. 

Josh jostles, and without much room, he's mostly jostling against Tyler. His arms wind tighter to steady himself. 

He swears he can hear Tyler's breath hitch, but he can't say for sure. 

When Jenna starts to trot down the valley, the steep incline makes him fearful, makes him slide forward and bunch his fists into the fabric of Tyler's western shirt. His nose brushes against the nape of Tyler's neck with every bumpy step down the slope. 

Tyler pulls Jenna's reins to make her slow and Josh inwardly thanks him, carefully releases the shaky breath he's been holding.

This time, he can definitely see the hairs on his neck raise. He swallows. 

Despite their slower pace now, Tyler's still jostling, but Josh doesn't understand why.

Smooth, up and down, back and forth, something about the motion seems intentional, but he can't fathom what it is, until he tries to ease his grip around Tyler's waist, and the latter quickly pulls him tightly around again with his free hand. 

Something clicks, and Josh thinks he understands. With his pulse pounding in his ears and everything feeling warm, tight, with no space between them, he understands. 

As an experiment, he presses himself even more tightly against Tyler. He buries himself there, behind Tyler, gently nuzzling up the brim of his cowboy hat. 

Tyler's breath does hitch, more audibly, and Josh knows what he needs to know. 

He plants a kiss on the nape of Tyler's neck, but this time it's with intention, no longer an experiment. 

Tyler releases a soft sigh. 

Josh knows what he has to do now, now that the floodgates have opened. He peppers more kisses, all around Tyler's neck, each less chaste than the one before it. 

Tyler lets out little whimpers. Tyler increases the speed of his bucking, and Josh becomes evermore bold. 

He carefully removes Tyler's cowboy hat for better access. He pushes himself up as far as he can and the friction does wonders to his own body, too. Still, always a giving lover, he remains focused on his goal. 

He kisses and gently sucks his way down Tyler's neck, every inch of skin he can reach from his angle. When he noses his way over Tyler's ear and the latter groans, he takes it upon himself to suck, even nibble on his earlobe. 

“More,” Tyler says so softly, Josh almost thinks it's part of the breeze. Josh knows better now. 

With the way Tyler's neck is so flushed and red, with the way Tyler's grinding has moved onto something more disjointed, frantic, Josh doesn't need to be told twice. 

He gently sinks his teeth into Tyler's neck and it's as if something breaks inside Tyler, the final straw. 

He shudders with full force and keens, leaning fully into Josh's pleasurable assault. He bucks and bucks his hips and whimpers softly until his shuddering dies down, until his breathing stops stuttering. 

For a moment, he remains still, attempting to catch his breath. Josh relinquishes his bite. He tries to tend the indentations of teeth marks with a kiss, but before he can, Tyler slides off the saddle and lands softly on his boots in the dirt. 

They've made it to the herd, by the small barn just off the fenced-in enclosure. 

As if everything from before was a fata morgana, Tyler simply says, “Get down and help me feed the cattle.”

Josh blinks. 

“Um,” he says, willing more words to come. They fail him. 

Tyler unties his bag from Jenna's saddle and retrieves a pocket knife from one of the front pouches. 

He extends it to Josh, looking away, turnin the valley of dark blush across the bridge of his nose away. 

No eye contact, he says, “You'll need this to cut the cords on the hay bales.”

When Josh takes it, Tyler adds, “Give me my hat.”

Josh hands it over, and as soon as he's placed it back on his head, in an instant, Tyler turns on his heel to disappear into the barn.

While Josh is sliding forward in the saddle to gain access to the stirrups, he hears the rumble of a tractor start. 

The green contraption of metal and beams backs out of the barn before Tyler kills the motor again. Josh sees piles of hay bales, Josh sees the herd of cattle already beginning to cry out, but his head isn't quite focused on work yet. 

Carefully, he eases himself down from Jenna and gives her a soft, affection pat, the one he couldn't get from Tyler before. Somehow, the beast gives him a knowing look, one he knows can't be real, but one that still gives him comfort. 

He steps over to the tractor, piled with hay bales. 

“Alright,” Tyler says, climbing onto the back of the tractor. He pulls a knife out of his back pocket, something silver and ornate, nothing like the small blade in Josh's hands. 

“You lift the cord with your hand,” Tyler says, giving only cold, precise instructions now. All Josh can think of is how he didn't notice the dagger in Tyler's back pocket before, how Tyler's voice was so rich and warm before. 

Tyler eases the blade under and the cord cracks apart, releasing an avalanche of hay. 

Josh only nods, unable to find the words he wants to say, if there are any. He hops onto the back of the tractor with Tyler, and fiddles with his pocket knife until he gets it to open. 

When he's ready to join in the work, he glances at Tyler.

As Tyler's cutting open a bale of hay, watching it unroll and scatter to the encroaching herd below, Josh can swear he sees something. 

His eyes scan Tyler's face, over stubble in need of a trim, over smooth, tan skin, over large brown eyes welling over with tears. 

“Hey,” Josh says softly. Tyler doesn't look up. 

“Hey Tyler,” he says with the same gentleness of before. “Are you-”

“Blushing?” Tyler says, not taking his eyes from this work. If anything, he's working harder, faster. “No, it's just a sunburn.” 

He wipes his face with the back of his hand and plays it cool, carefully preserving his pride or whatever this is, something Josh can only speculate over. 

Josh is overwhelmed from before and even more confused now. 

Josh slowly gets to work, clumsily sawing through the cords keeping the hay bales together. 

“Was just going to ask if you're okay.”

Tyler spits a wad into the grass below.

“I'm fine.” 

–

After they return from tending the herd, this time with Tyler leaning forward on Jenna as far as he'll go, the rest of Josh's day is filled with minimal conversation, even more so than before, leaving him to mull over what happened in the morning as he's mucking and brushing. 

Josh really doesn't get it anymore, back to square one. He doesn't understand the waxing and waning affection. 

He's simple, he's honest. He has a hard time with the idea of giving pleasure one moment and cutting it all off within a second. 

Josh mucks and mucks and brushes and brushes until he's done all his work with too much precision. He's trying to put off the inevitable return to the ranch house, to more one-word conversations with Tyler, to more stolen glances, unreciprocated.

When he's finally out of things to do, Josh makes his way back to the house, internally readying himself for the stoicism to come. 

As he's heading to the porch, he hears something chilling, eery, but beautiful. 

He hears the plucking of something, something he's sure is a banjo at first, but it's lighter, less volatile. It's not the instrument that sends a wave of goosebumps over his skin, though. 

It's the lyrical voice singing with it. 

“...a shadow tilts its head at me,” Josh hears. “Spirits in the dark are waiting.”

He peeks around the corner to see. 

“I will let the wind go quietly,” Tyler sings, rolling his fingers over the strings of his banjolele. “I will let the wind go quietly.” His eyes are closed, so he sings freely, with his face twisting into something pained, free to unleash itself without an audience. 

Afraid of breaking the atmosphere of the setting sun and beautiful melody, Josh eases his way around to the back door. 

Despite everything, despite all the confusion and the stressors of the day, he feels soothed. The song is like a balm to his nerves, still haunting the caverns of his mind when he goes to sleep that night, after dinner alone, dinner accompanied only by distant banjolele plucking. 

When he shuts his eyes in this world, he awakens in another. 

This time, there's the same child as before. 

The child is standing under a tree, silent, stout, like before. 

This time, though, her face cracks. She tries to pull herself together with all her might, she tries to hold it all upright, but her cheeks are a dark red. Thick hot tears, the silent kind, give her cheeks a sheen. 

She's standing under a tree, alone. 

Barefoot, she roots herself to the ground before a grave. She plants herself like a flower before the makeshift cross. 

“Give me strength,” she says. “Take my soul and make it undone.”

Knife in hand, she carves the final number into the wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened......... :-)
> 
> This chapter was going to be twice as long, but I decided to s p l i t i t, and now I can ominously warn that more shit will go down in the next one... it might even be the start of a real plot... like, conflict, man... 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting, I love that you love my angsty ass cowboys and I love writing this, and I love you. 
> 
> (Also, sorry for any misspellings, I'm still on the road and focusing on editing is hard)


	5. Mourn the Memories Later, Laugh Now Alligator

When morning comes around again, Josh is awake before Tyler wakes him. 

He's frozen to the bed, his limbs tied down by some invisible force. 

Josh tries to lift his arm to check the time, but it feels thousands of tons heavy. All he can do is blink and watch the room change from night to day. 

Somehow, he still feels peaceful, despite the dream, despite the fact that he usually doesn't remember his dreams, despite the fact that he's stuck now and doesn't know why. 

The invisible bindings snap when there's a soft knock on the door. 

Josh sighs in relief when he realizes he's unbound, and turns to unlock his phone. 

Unlike the past days and weeks, the knocking doesn't become abrasive. Tyler stops tapping the door and after a moment, Josh hears his spurs clicking, like he's about to walk away. 

“Good morning!” Josh half-shouts at the closed door. 

Tyler audibly swivels around, and gently cracks the door. 

His eyes, wide, wide with dark half moons underneath, peer in. He looks tired, less perky than he usually is at this hour. 

“Good morning,” he whispers, like he's afraid to disturb something, someone. 

Josh tilts his head, confused like a puppy. He doesn't know how many faces of Tyler he'll meet during his stay here. 

“Everything okay?” Josh says, always curious, always sympathetic and ready to console.

Tyler doesn't answer. He rubs his eyes, one with his thumb, the other with his forefinger. This fingers meet at the bridge of his nose. 

“Mm,” he finally says. “We have visitors coming today. Business meeting and all that.”

Josh nods, pretending to understand, even though he doesn't know his place in any of this. He doesn't understand ranch business, ranch politics, whatever it might be. 

“Do you just want me to do more of the usual? Mucking and all that?” 

Tyler nods back. He turns to step away, but hesitates. 

Josh swallows and waits. 

“Be nice to them,” he adds. “I really need this deal to come through.”

Josh almost wants to laugh at how little Tyler still knows about him after these weeks of his stay here. 

“Of course,” he says anyway. 

“Thank you,” Tyler adds hastily. With his first words of appreciation out in the open, he clearly finds the need to dash away like a scared rabbit now. 

Josh doesn't know, doesn't know anything, but he sits up in bed. He stretches until his body cracks and pops, and gets himself ready for the day. 

–

When he gets to the breakfast table, Tyler already washing out his own bowl. There's a hot bowl of oats on the table for Josh. 

He takes a seat, but doesn't start to munch right away. 

Josh has something to say, but the idea alone gives him a shot of adrenaline, makes his blood run cold, especially with Tyler's strange, muted mood. 

He can't help his big mouth. 

“Tyler,” he says, the name coming out gravelly. He clears his throat. 

Tyler side-eyes him over his shoulder. With his hands covered in suds, he asks, “Hm?”

“Can we talk about what happened yesterday?”

Tyler freezes in place, in the midst of scrubbing the pot he used to make oats. He blinks a few moments, mulling over the memories in his mind. 

“That was weird,” he says, turning back to his dishes, back to more vigorous scrubbing. “We shouldn't do that again.”

Josh isn't defeated yet. He presses on, he presses on because he knows that this is something Tyler's afraid of, because he remembers the soft noises Tyler made when they were pressed flush against each other. 

“I don't know,” he says. He coaxes on. “I kind of liked it.” 

A spoon slips from Tyler's grip and clatters into the sink. He picks it up hastily. 

Voice sounding like someone's clenching it tightly, Tyler says, “Can we talk about this later? Our guests will be here soon.”

Josh huffs and smiles into his oats as he stirs them to cool. 

“Sure.” 

–  
Jenna nuzzles her velvety snout into Josh as he's trimming her forelock, an instruction Tyler gave him before he headed out for his daily chores at the stable. 

Josh feels an ache in his chest, the same ache he feels when his mother's cat kneads his thighs and rumbles and rumbles. There's something endearing about Jenna, the way she patiently withstood his absolute clumsiness in learning to ride her for the first time, and it's something he won't forget. 

He lingers with her daily, as long as he can, before having to tend to Tyler's creepy, testy steed. 

But now, Josh snips the crispy tips of her mane while Jenna affectionately buries herself into his chest. He's concentrating hard, with his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, when he hears a vehicle rumble up Tyler's winding driveway. 

He pulls himself away from Jenna and she snorts in protest. Josh's curiosity to see the men involved in Tyler's business meeting is stronger. 

He looks upon the driveway from the slight incline of the stable and sees two men, both shielded by the wide brims of their cowboy hats. 

Deciding to be friendly, he heads down to greet them. 

“Hi there!” he yells, making his way down to the ranch house, hand waving. 

The men, climbing out of the pick-up truck, return the greeting and pull their lips into twisted smiles. 

Josh is always nervous around the unknown, but something about these men puts him on edge, sends a chill through his body. 

The driver is older, with a dark, scruffy beard, while the man from the passenger's seat looks like a like a more vital version of the former. 

“Howdy,” the diver says with a molasses drawl. He's still grinning, teeth stained yellow, teeth riddled with flecks of tobacco. Josh shudders, thinking back on Tyler's endless dipping, hoping it won't happen to him, hoping it won't affect the taste of his... 

Josh doesn't allow his thoughts to wander any further. When he finally reaches the men, he feels like he's completely nude before them, like his thoughts are leaking out to be lapped up by the audience of two. 

Josh extends his hand to the older man first. 

“Hi,” he says, breathless. “I'm Josh, Tyler's uh, ranch hand.” 

The man squeezes his hand until he thinks it might break. 

“Jack Almaviva,” he says with a voice that sounds like its gargling tobacco. There's something compelling about the glint in his eyes, so much that Josh gapes at him for a moment, before Jack's companion breaks the spell. 

“I'm Donnie Almaviva,” he chimes in. “The firstborn son.” 

The addition feels odd to Josh, but he gives a bright smile anyhow, and gives himself to another vice-like grip. 

Jack turns his head to look at the house. He squints, and chews, and thinks for a moment, but all Josh can focus on is the garish valley of once-mangled flesh on the side of his neck. The scar is a deep indentation of some kind of trauma that Josh doesn't want to fathom. 

“Is our boy Tyler in there?” he says. “We've got business to discuss. Cattle. He's lookin' to buy, and I'm lookin' to sell.” 

Josh nods fervently. He wants to eject himself from this situation, this harmless interaction that makes him feel so violated for reasons logic can't explain. Any excuse to escape is a good one. 

“Oh yeah,” he says. “I'll go get him.” Josh has no idea if Tyler is still in the ranch house, but he dashes through the front door immediately. 

“Tyler?” he calls into the house. There's a soft draft shaking the curtains in the living room, but everything is silent. 

“Tyler?” he repeats, heading to Tyler's bedroom. 

He carefully cracks the door. 

Tyler's there, kneeling on the floor. 

The scene is so serene, Josh wants to melt into it. He can't really piece together all the details, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the table before Tyler, the only source of light in the otherwise darkened room with all the curtains pulled shut. 

The flame dances over a cow horn, over Tyler's dagger, over bowls of dirt or herbs, Josh doesn't really know what the bigger picture is, but whatever this is, it comforts him. 

“Tyler?” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin and springs to his feet. 

“Your business partners are here,” he says hastily. Tyler doesn't turn to look at him, and just huffs out the candle before him, killing the only light source in his room. 

“Thank you, Josh,” he says, turning around. He fixes his bolo tie and takes a deep breath. 

Even with the room almost completely dark now, Josh sees that Tyler's face is shaven, clean. 

When he pushes by him to get out of the room, Josh catches the scent of some kind of cologne. 

Tyler exits and Josh follows. 

“Jack!” Tyler exclaims with enthusiasm Josh hasn't heard before. 

Tyler approaches the man to catch his hand, shake it vigorously. 

“Donnie! So nice to have the Almavivas back up here again!” 

He's so bubbly and bright that Josh doesn't know what to do other than to linger by the porch and watch the scene unfold. 

“It's nice to see you again too, Tyler,” Jack says, mouth wide with a yellow smile. “You make yourself so rare these days. Finally saved up enough to purchase some of my prime Angus beef, hm?” 

“You betcha,” Tyler beams with a smile so forced and sweet that Josh wants to gag. 

When their talk turns business, Josh turns his attention to Donnie, the third wheel. Donnie's staring directly at him. He swears he sees Donnie wink and the gesture alone feels like a pin-prick. 

When Josh pulls his eyes away from the man's curious gaze, Jack has gotten closer to Tyler. 

Tyler doesn't lean away from Jack's hand on the small of his back. If anything, he's acting coy, flirtatious, batting his eyes at the man who is so clearly poisonous. 

Josh feels light-headed. 

“Let's go in and discuss this in your office, hm?” Jack says. 

“Oh, absolutely!” Tyler exclaims, finally releasing himself from Jack's lumbering form and climbing up the porch steps. 

Briefly, in the same alien, enthusiastic tone of before, Tyler turns to Josh.

“Go on and get back to work. I'll handle the business,” he says. 

His eyes study Josh for a moment, full of something, full of something Josh can still recognize as Tyler. They're offering at silent, “trust me”, at least as far as Josh can tell. 

Josh nods. 

“Sure thing, boss.”

At that phrase, Donnie gives him a wide grin. As they're passing by Josh to enter the front door, he leans in far too close for comfort, as if he's taking in Josh's scent, trying to feed off his essence. 

Josh leans away instinctively. 

Donnie just throws his head back and laughs before stepping into the house. 

Thoroughly uncomfortable, Josh makes his way back to the stable. Only when Jenna greets him with the kind of enthusiasm he can trust, an excited braying, does he start to unwind. 

–

Only when Josh hears voices at the front of the ranch again, only when he hears the eery men slam the doors of their pick-up trucks shut, only then does he emerge to assess what's happened. 

Below him, he sees the men start their car and wave to Tyler. 

Tyler gives one last bright smile and a wave as the Almavivas back out of the driveway. 

When he turns to Josh, the smile has been wiped away and he looks sapped of energy. 

Josh blinks at him from the stable and takes a few steps forward, trying to mouth “everything okay?”, but Tyler's staring at nothing but the middle space between them. 

Suddenly, he lifts his leg and yanks off his left boot with full force. He tosses it into the dirt behind him, and doesn't look where it lands. The second boot follows. Then, his bunched up socks land in the pile. 

Josh stares and stares, the cogs in his brain turning. 

Tyler starts to stamp away, not bothered by dirt and pebbles under the soft skin of his soles. As he's walking, he slips the bolo tie over his head and drops it into the dust and dirt as well. 

Josh's eyes follow him. 

Tyler stomps to the tree in the front yard, the large winding tree that almost encroaches the house and he halts there, almost dropping his entire body against it. 

He burrows his toes in the earth and wraps his arms tightly around the trunk, fists balled until his knuckles turn white. 

Whatever's happening now, Josh doesn't want to be the voyeur anymore. He doesn't understand the details, but he sees the destruction before him, and he can't do nothing. 

He tip-toes on his quiet sneakers down to the front of the house, down to Tyler's path of chaos. He gathers the boots, the socks, the tie and finally joins him under the tree. 

Tyler curls further in on himself, and on some level, Josh understands. He doesn't say anything, but places the pile of garb gently next to him. 

Face hidden and voice choked, Tyler says, “Thank you.” 

Josh hovers a hand over his back to offer some kind of comfort, but he doesn't know his place anymore. 

“Touch me,” Tyler says, somehow always knowing without seeing. 

Josh obeys, and softly rests his hand between Tyler's shoulder blades. 

Tyler sighs softly. 

Josh rubs circles and Tyler remains wound tight at first. After a few moments, his tension eases and his hands relax. 

Tyler loosens his grip on the tree and turns to face him. With his expression softened, he says, “Thank you.” 

Josh says, “Anytime.”

–

When Josh returns from his work at the stable, he finds Tyler on the porch again, banjolele in his lap. 

He's singing more of the haunting melody, but this time, Josh doesn't hide. He stands before the steps and watches Tyler, perched on the railing, pouring his heart into a performance not meant to be seen. 

“We don’t know, we don’t know, how to put back the power in our soul,” he sings with his eyes closed. “We don’t know, we don’t know, where to find what was once in our bones.”

Josh's eyes study Tyler, attempting to pull out answers of any kind. When the verse ends and Tyler returns to the instrumental filler, he speaks. 

“I've never heard that song.” 

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin for the second time. 

The plucking stops abruptly. 

Tyler settles himself and clears his throat. 

“That's because I wrote it.” 

“It's beautiful,” Josh answers. 

Tyler swings his feet and stares intently at the dirt beneath him. From Josh's angle, the brim of his cowboy hat is tilted up just enough to reveal a small smile. 

“How did you business meeting go today?” Josh goes on, genuinely interested. 

Tyler turns his head to look at him. He looks tired, as he has all day, but now he seems even more wrung out. 

“I bought some cattle at a reasonable price. It all worked out.” His tone is flat, almost disinterested. 

“That's great,” Josh says, giving a genuine smile. 

“Yeah,” Tyler hums. Still kicking his feet, he doesn't add anything on the topic. Josh figures the negotiations are dead and done, now a thing of the past. 

There's a moment of silence where Josh doesn't really know what to say. He chooses to turn his attention to the polish barely clinging to his nails. While he's lost in his own world, Tyler starts to speak. 

“You liked what happened yesterday?”

Josh is caught off guard, but because he's always ready to be sickeningly earnest, he nods furiously. 

“I really did,” he says, not ashamed of his darkening cheeks. 

Tyler huffs, soft smile creeping over his face. Josh can't pinpoint what, but there's something bittersweet in his expression, something that makes Josh both want to jump for joy and cradle Tyler's slender form against his chest. 

Suddenly, Tyler swivels around on the railing and hops off, landing on his cowboy boots with a metallic “clink”. 

He steps over to Josh looks down at him from the top step. Josh feels helpless under his gaze. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Tyler muses. 

Josh shakes his head carefully, afraid to avert his gaze or Tyler will hush out like a candle flame before him. Whatever he's feeling right now can't be a terrible idea. 

Tyler takes one step down, now much closer than before. 

“You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, is that right?” 

Josh shakes his head quickly, heart-rate already through the roof from their proximity, from Tyler's suggestive smirk that doesn't feel theatrical like his flirting with Jack from before. 

Tyler steps down even closer, until Josh's face is nearly flush with his chest. There's the hint of cologne he dabbed on for the meeting, but Josh inhales deeply to get closer to Tyler's naturally earthy, musky smell.

Tyler places a hand under Josh's chin and tilts it up. 

Josh's head swims.

He sees everything in slow-motion and he almost wants to pinch himself awake before the cruel tantalization starts. But it's real, it's real, and Tyler's face comes for him without hesitation. 

When their lips meet, Josh feels like he finally understands syrupy poems about sparks shooting. 

Tyler's chapped lips against his feel like heaven to him. 

Josh lets his eyes fall shut and kisses Tyler back softly, gently, mirroring the soft glow of affection stirring inside his chest. 

Tyler sighs against him. 

When Josh softly licks over his bottom lip, Tyler breaks the kiss. 

Josh furrows his eyebrows, but Tyler grins at him, turns to the side, and spits a long trail of tobacco soup into the bushes. 

He stamps one last sloppy kiss on Josh's face before turning on his heel to return to the house. 

“Good night,” he says with a wave of his hand. 

Josh, the pile of goo that once was Josh, stands on the porch, stunned. 

– 

While Josh plays over the memories of his day over and over in his head in bed that night, while he's lingering on Tyler's scent, taste, his everything, things start to fade out. 

Instead, a more vivid world fades in. 

There's a man laying down on a wooden table, outside. He looks serene. He looks like he's sleeping. 

He's dressed in a red ochre tunic and adorned by a garland of flowers. 

The air is heavy with their perfume.

When Josh becomes aware of the man and woman behind table, dressed simply, dressed in earthy tones, he knows the man is not asleep. 

The priest and priestess hold a thick, black book, one half in each of their palms. 

They speak in unison.

Despite the clarity of the scene itself, their words don't make sense. Beautiful in sound alone, they don't make sense. It might not be English.

In the small group of people before the man on the table, there's the child again. 

While the men are dressed in smocks, the women favor dresses. They are separated with a foot between the groups. Some figures remain ambiguous. 

To Josh, everyone is a blur anyhow, except the child.

The child is wearing a smock. The child stands before the priest, with the men. 

The child is not a girl. 

He cries, face twisted, ugly and angry. His fists are balled tightly by his side. 

He remains silent while the priest and priestess chant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fast? This was fast because I already had a bunch of it written when I posted the other one. 
> 
> Things are STARTING. 
> 
> The next chapter won't be as fast but the ideas are all ripe and ready.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you guys for your overwhelming support in my emotional cowboy fic endeavors <3


	6. Wounds Bleed Fresh

When Josh finally awakens, it's not to Tyler's ceaseless pounding on the door. He awakens feeling heavy like he always does now, but the room isn't bathed in the muted tones of the sunrise. 

The sun is bright, so Josh assumes it must be much later. 

He tries to shake his visions from the night before out of his head. They're dreams, just dreams, and as far as he knows, they don't hold any relevance. 

He's sure it's just the fresh air and the diet of grains and beans sending him such vivid stories each night. The pollution of L.A. and the midnight Taco Bell sessions probably wrecked his natural ability to dream healthily. 

Josh picks up his phone, and the time reads 8:03am. It's early by his own languid, student-life standards, but really late by Blurryface Ranch standards. 

He dresses himself quickly, unable to shake the feeling that something might be wrong. He's grown accustomed to the harsh, early routine, with Tyler ripping him out of his dreams at sunrise every morning like clockwork. 

When he exits his room and hears a commotion, shouts and trucks and the braying of cows, he feels instantly relieved. 

Josh flies by the breakfast Tyler left him at the table and pushes open the screen door to the porch. The scene matches the hubbub he heard from inside the house.

The Almaviva brother, Donnie, is back in the family pick-up truck, with a new, equally boorish character by his side. They're pulling a trailer behind them, a long metal crate that Josh assumes is the source of the distressed braying. 

Tyler's on top of Johnny Boy, waving and shouting over the roaring engine of the rickety tin can they're driving. 

He waves and motions in the general direction of the dirt path. 

Donnie gives him a wink, spits out his window, and sets off. 

Tyler steers Johnny around to follow the vehicle, but as he's circling the driveway, his eyes land on Josh. He pulls Johnny to an abrupt halt. 

Josh swears he can feel the horse's eyes narrow when it spots him. He lifts his lip to expose ugly, blunt teeth, and Josh wants to mirror the gesture. 

Tyler interrupts his thoughts. 

“Hey,” he calls from the horse's back. 

Josh smiles and waves. With the memories of the night before still fresh in his mind, he feels his face grow hot. 

“Get some breakfast,” Tyler says, squinting from the bright sunlight. “You'll need your strength out on the field today. We're moving the new shipment in.” 

“Sure thing,” Josh says.

“I'll meet you there,” Tyler says, face bright, alert. His grin mimics the sunshine. 

He kicks Johnny Boy and disappears in swirling dust before Josh can say anything more. 

He heads inside to the kitchen. His eyes fall on the meal prepared for him, probably prepared at sunrise while he was dreaming and dreaming of surreal funeral rites and other nonsense. 

Josh eats his eggs and nearly wants to cry. 

After all of Tyler's stoicism, his shy behaviors, this gesture is all too sweet. 

Josh eats his cold eggs and bacon and heads out to the stable to saddle up. 

–

The moment Josh is on Jenna's back, he starts to sweat. 

He knows he has to make it to the field quickly. Strolling there steadily is something he can manage, something Jenna can do on autopilot, but he knows he has to trot to prove his worth as Tyler's ranch hand. 

He pulls Jenna to a halt before the dirt path leading to the cattle field. 

Josh inhales deeply and shuts his eyes. He's not sure if he should pray, but he almost wants to. Driving, biking, skating, all of it has been just fine, but speeding across rocky land on the back of a giant, heaving animal makes his stomach twist. 

Instead of praying to God, he chooses to beg Jenna for her compliance, her gentleness. 

He leans forward to stroke her withers. He weaves his fingers through her mane again and again, not sure whom he's soothing with the gesture. 

“Jenna,” he says with a dry mouth. “Please get me there quickly. Safely.” 

Logic tells him she couldn't possibly understand, but something in Josh's gut tells him to trust her.

She snorts softly. 

“Okay, girl,” Josh says, sitting upright again. “Here goes nothing.” 

He digs his heels into her flanks and she lurches forward. 

Thanks to the one hand he kept on her saddle horn, Josh manages to stay on her back. Still, he's sure years of his life have been shaved off by the sudden burst of speed. 

He has to stifle a scream as she bounces and bounds across the open lands and down to the ravine. 

Jenna's gait isn't nearly the fastest it could be, it's not uncontrolled and wily, and Josh is eternally grateful for that. 

When they finally reach the large piece of fenced in, grassy land, Josh feels scrambled in every part of his body. When he finally brings Jenna to a halt and plants his feet on the solid earth beneath them, he's never been so relieved. 

Josh takes in his surroundings. 

There's Ruby, tongue lolling out of her mouth, orbiting around Tyler with boundless energy. Josh has only ever seen her lounging in the shade of the ranch house, waiting for the next person to assault with kisses, but here she is, joyful and eager to work. 

Josh remembers her absence at the arrival of the Almavivas for their business deal. Josh remembers how she attacked him with rowdy affection upon his arrival. 

Before he can ponder if it means anything, his attention snaps to Donnie sliding into the saddle of his horse, which Josh guesses was also transported in the cattle trailer. 

“Tyler,” Donnie calls out in his abrasive tone. It cuts the air, causing Josh, Tyler and even Ruby to snap their heads over to the crude man. 

Ruby folds back her ears. 

Tyler is sliding his can of dip back into the pocket of his leather satchel. His eyes focus on Donnie with an intensity that Josh can't understand. Even with the corners of his mouth curled upward, his eyes don't crinkle. 

Josh squints. 

“Tyler,” Donnie begins again, leading his horse over to join Tyler's side. “Gimme some of that chew.” 

Tyler's smile is bright, inviting. 

“Oh, sure thing,” he says. 

Josh sees him rummage around his bag, deeper than where the old can should be. 

He pulls out a small, copper tin and flips open the lid. It's nothing like the can Tyler usually uses, and Josh furrows his brow. 

Donnie doesn't take note. 

He leans over to take a sizable pinch from the little box and tucks it under his lower lip. 

“Good shit,” Donnie says, slurping around the gob in his mouth. “Let's do this.” 

Tyler nods, and the other Almaviva brother, standing with one hand poised over the latch of the trailer, a cattle prod in his other, nods back. 

He releases the hook, and begins animating the first few animals out of their prison cell with his rod. 

Tyler turns away from the scene, turns away from the animals braying loudly in confusion and pain. 

Josh can't blame him. Josh wants to erase the sight from his eyes, only accustomed to pampered house cats and teacup poodles on the arms of their owners back in Los Angeles, not used to the reality of livestock handling. 

Like at the scene of a car crash, Josh can't pull his eyes away. His heart rate quickens, his hand coils until his fingernails dig deep into his palm.

While Josh is transfixed, Tyler hooks his fingers into his mouth and whistles sharply at Ruby. 

Josh jumps. 

Ruby jumps too, but not with surprise. She jumps to life, more vibrant and hyper than ever before, and begins her descent upon the cattle. 

Josh feels like a spectator to the unfolding scene. Tyler casts glances at him, but doesn't offer instructions. It's like he's waiting, zeroing in mostly on Ruby. Josh doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels deeply uneasy, he feels deeply useless. 

He takes to stroking Jenna's sensitive nose to calm himself, to occupy his hands. 

Suddenly, Ruby yips. She barks and yips and bites the heels of a lone, young bull, forcing the wide-eyed creature out of the herd. 

“Ruby,” Tyler calls, half-heartedly. “Ruby!” He doesn't bother to kick Johnny Boy into motion. 

“Ruby!” Josh calls, trying to bring some of his worth to the situation. 

Tyler shoots a glare his way. Josh blinks and shuts his mouth. He figures he doesn't have the experience to reign in control of a working dog, so he steps back, taut and anxious to see what will happen next. 

Ruby runs and runs and the bull runs and runs, until it's frothing at the mouth. Tyler finally begins to gallop. 

“Whoa, Tyler,” Donnie chimes in, galloping ahead of him. “Yain't got control of that dog and she feels it. Better let a real man take care of it.” 

Tyler's eyes narrow, but he gives a smile nonetheless. 

Josh admires his self-control, already mentally playing out a scene in which he socks the oily expression off Donnie's face. 

“Go right ahead,” Tyler says, waving his hand. “I'd love to watch you work.” 

Donnie doesn't need to be told twice and he disappears in the cloud of swirling dust to go off after the animals. 

Soon, he's out of sight. The other Almaviva brother is still poking, prodding cattle out of the trailer, too occupied with his own personal spark of sadism to take in the commotion around him. 

Tyler finally turns to Josh.

“Come on over here,” he says, voice softer, less strained. “Ride along the herd so we don't end up with anymore strays. We'll take them over to the barn.” 

With that, Tyler sets Johnny Boy into motion and flanks one side of the growing sea of dark little cows. 

Josh nods and scrambles onto Jenna's back. 

In silence, he rides Jenna at a slow, rhythmic canter, opposite Tyler. 

– 

It's only when their work is done, only when they've rounded all the cows into an enclosed space in the barn meant for unbranded newcomers, it's only then that the remaining Almaviva brother brings to their attention that Donnie, Ruby and the lost bull haven't returned. 

“It's not like him, y'know?” the brother says, wringing the handle of his cattle prod in his hands. “We gotta look for him.”

Tyler nods, expression blunted. 

“Let Jeb take Jenna and head back,” Tyler orders Josh. “It'll take you longer, but there's not much left to do back at the ranch, anyhow.”

Josh bites his lower lip and remains silent for a moment. The last thing he wants to do is hand Jenna over to the leering man, but she's not his horse. Against his will, he nods, and slides out of the saddle. 

Without properly handing off her reigns, Josh sets off. 

“Looks like pretty boy is jealous,” and Tyler's strained laughter is the last thing he hears as he darts out of the barn and to the dusty path. 

–

Sometime in the afternoon, Josh finally hears the clopping of eight hooves descending upon the stable. 

In the distance, he hears an engine sputtering off down the driveway. 

He's relieved, having run out of chores. The last hour consisted of sorting and re-sorting the horse's grooming tools. 

The light in the stable dims as Tyler enters the threshold. He's riding Johnny, with Jenna tethered behind him. 

Josh tries to feign busyness. 

Tyler hops off Johnny and grabs each of the horses' reigns to lead them into the stable. 

Josh clears his throat.

“Did you find the guy?” he asks, tucking the hoof pick into place behind a large metal file in the leather sling of tools. 

“Nope,” Tyler says flatly. “Not a trace.” 

“Oh,” Josh says, curiosity piqued. “What about Ruby?” 

“She's back under the porch. She knows her way around here,” Tyler answers. He leads Johnny into his stall. 

“So what could have happened to Donnie?” Josh ventures on. 

Tyler shrugs. He leads Jenna to Josh, and pressed her reigns in Josh's hand. 

“No idea,” he says. “He'll turn up.”

With that, Tyler wanders off. 

Josh remains stunned, the strange interaction turning over in his mind until Jenna nuzzles his side. 

He strokes her mane gently. 

“That was weird, wasn't it?” he says to her. 

From across the stable, Johnny boy snorts a thick wad of snot into the dirt. 

–

Josh finishes his chores after sunset and trudges back to the ranch house in inky darkness. 

Just a silhouette against the light shining through the windows, Josh spots Tyler tapping out his tin box of tobacco into the oleander bushes. 

Tyler's head snaps up when he hears the crunch of Josh's sneakers coming up the driveway. He tucks the tin into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. 

As Josh nears, he catches sight of Tyler's smile. This one is gentle, mild, so unlike the smiles threatening to break into sneers during the visit of the Almavivas that morning.

Josh's heart skips a beat. 

“Ready for dinner?” Tyler says, already pulling off his dusty boots. 

“I'm starving,” Josh says, stamping his way up the porch. 

Tyler holds open the screen door for him. 

“Perfect.” 

–

Over a dinner of bean stew, the umpteenth bean stew that Josh has had for dinner since arriving at the ranch, Josh tries to pull more answers out of Tyler regarding the disappearance of Donnie. 

“But he's an experienced cowboy, right?”

“Everything is pretty wide-open around here, could he really lose his way?” 

“You didn't find any tracks in the dirt? No tracks at all?”

All these unanswered questions unsettle Josh, but they seem to have no effect on Tyler. He remains unflappable, placid. His answers amount to grunts, shrugs. 

Finally, Josh drops the subject. He mentally scolds himself for his concern, remembering the greasy, looming presence of the missing man. He's not sure if he would mourn the guy's disappearance. 

It's just the mystery of the event igniting his curiosity. 

Tyler finishes his food quickly, while Josh pushes around the beans for a while longer, until his thoughts settle. Tyler's lip is already stuffed with tobacco by the time Josh scrapes his bowl clean. 

Tyler takes their bowls to the sink and washes them thoroughly. He leans over a paper cup next to the stove, one Josh always makes an active effort to avoid getting near, and drops his wad of spit and tobacco into it. 

He flicks on the faucet and takes a sip directly from the spout. He doesn't swallow, instead opting to swish, gargle, and finally regurgitate the water back into the sink. 

“Hey, Josh?” he says, not turning around from the sink. 

“Yeah?” Josh says from his seat at the table. He stops picking his nails for a moment. 

“Can you help me with these dishes?” 

Josh raises an eyebrow. Tyler already washed the bowls and the pot of bean stew is still half full, so he doesn't understand. 

“What dishes?” he says, not moving. 

“Come here,” Tyler says, peeking over his shoulder. His eyes are compelling, enough to send a shudder through Josh's core. 

He does as he's told and takes a spot beside Tyler, beside the already drying dishes. 

“What did you-” Josh tries to say, but before he can get the words out, Tyler's lips are on his. This time, there's no restraint. With his mouth swept clean of most of the tobacco remnants, Tyler gives himself to an open mouthed kiss. 

Josh is startled, but quickly becomes pliant under Tyler's touch. The first thing he tastes is Tyler, the unique essence of Tyler, laced with the aftertaste of something bitter, surely tobacco. 

In the heat of the moment, Josh doesn't care. All he cares about it the contact, the closeness. 

His fingers wind around Tyler's bolo tie to pull him closer. 

Tyler whimpers into his mouth. 

In one swift motion, he pulls Josh's hand away from his tie and pins it to the cabinet behind them.

Now, it's Josh's turn to whimper. He suddenly feels like prey, caught in Tyler's hypnotic, primal dance. 

Tyler licks into his mouth, and before Josh can reciprocate, he pulls back to plant a trail of wet kisses down Josh's jaw. 

Breathing heavily now, Josh leans into Tyler when the latter reaches his neck. 

With unexpected gentleness, Tyler nuzzles and kisses the sensitive skin there, sending a cascade of goosebumps over Josh's skin. 

His hands still roam and roam, and with all of Josh's attention focused on Tyler's mouth, Josh doesn't realize where they're headed until one of them pops open the button of his jeans. 

Adrenaline pools in Josh's stomach and he feels himself melt into a putty. 

Tyler kisses him more eagerly, dunking himself deeper into the crook of Josh's neck like he wants to drown. He works a hand into Josh's boxers. 

Josh gasps when Tyler's cool fingers wrap around his cock. 

Tyler pulls away for air and fixates his gaze on Josh. Maintaining eye contact, maintaining his grip around Josh, he uses his free hand to wiggle Josh's pants down over his hips. 

“Get rid of these,” he whispers, voice barely audible. Josh snaps out of his trance and pushes his jeans, his boxers down until gravity takes them down to his ankles. 

Fully exposed like this, with Tyler still clothed, Josh feels shy. He tries to reach forward and fumble with Tyler's fly, but Tyler shoos his hands away. 

Knowing he has no control, Josh relinquishes his hands, allows himself to become prey. 

With his gaze still boring into Josh's eyes, Tyler drops a slow, heavy dollop of spit into his palm. 

When he brings his hand back down to Josh's cock, Josh practically brays. The warmth, the slickness, the considerate intimacy of it all makes his head swim. 

Tyler pumps his hand and Josh turns into a serious of soft gasps, stuttered breath. 

Tyler drops to his knees and places his hands on Josh's hips, pushing him back into the counter. 

The knobs of the kitchen drawers dig into Josh's back, but he doesn't notice. He falls into the dark, golden pools of Tyler's eyes and can hardly remember to breathe. 

When Tyler wraps his hand around him again, this time aiding the jerking of his hand with wet, sloppy kisses to the head of his cock, Josh can't contain himself. 

The heat in his belly erupts, his breath catches, and he paints Tyler's face white. 

Josh comes down from his climax, glowing, panting, completely undone. When he finally looks down at Tyler, he feels a shred of remorse. 

“Uh,” he says, searching his brain for English, struggling to piece together words after his peak. “I'm sorry, ah, I'll get that...”

He's already reaching for a dish towel. 

Tyler says nothing. He gives him a curious look and scrapes the cum into his mouth with his index finger. A bit of pink tongue darts out to clean up the rest. 

Josh is stunned. The image of Tyler on his knees, lapping himself clean, burns into his mind. 

Tyler stands again and kisses him, now more salty than bitter, still mostly sweet. 

Voice choked, eyes moist around the corners, he whispers, “Good night, Josh,” against Josh's mouth. 

Josh brings their mouths together one more time, unable to satiate his thirst. He cups a hand against Tyler's face, catching a tear with his thumb. 

Tyler smiles into the kiss. 

–

The scene that swims into Josh's consciousness that night is beyond unsettling. 

The first thing he smells is iron. 

The first thing he hears is groaning. 

The first thing he sees is a valley littered with bodies. 

They're not human. The field is peppered with brown and white, doused in red. 

An entire field of cattle lies dead.

Josh hears frantic breath, stumbling steps. 

The child is weaving through the bodies. 

Ghostly white, he's too shocked to cry out, too shocked for tears. 

He follows the sound of wheezing, strained breath. 

One cow is still heaving. 

He drops to his knees beside the suffering animal. With one thumb, he wipes away its pained tears. 

The animal lets out a deep, hissing breath, and its eyes grow dim. 

“No,” the child whispers, recoiling, jumping to his feet. 

He continues to run, hugging himself tightly. 

He reaches a looming, wooden structure. A stable. 

It's dark inside, so the child slows his pace. His feet bump into a large, dark figure. It whinnies weakly. 

The child's hands roam the dark fur of the animal. 

His hands grow sticky, dark. The child's face begins to crack as he bubbles an endless string of “No, no, no, no, no”. 

He spots another figure, a few feet away. This figure is human. 

“Papa!” he yells, darting over, skidding to his knees beside the man. He turns him over to look at his face. 

Where there should be an eye, there's a ruby red railroad spike. 

The child startles and lurches away. 

Josh startles awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ranch hand............jobs (thank you for that phrasing, Mars)..... and the plot thickens
> 
> :-) Sorry this took a while. I'm home from vacation now though, so updates should be more regular, god-willing? 
> 
> My corneas wilted while writing this, so sorry, again, for errors. I really need to space out my writing instead of binge-writing all on one day, u know how that be?
> 
> Thanks, as always, for everyone's support. <333333


	7. Fireworks, Electric Bright

Josh feels relieved when he drifts back into consciousness. 

He feels nauseous, shaken, anything but well-rested, but most of all, he feels relieved to find himself back in his relatively calm, unassuming life.

The sunrise filters in through the screened windows, the air is calm, still, except for a light tapping on the door. Thankfully, nothing smells like blood or gore. 

Josh hugs his pillow close, breaths in the soft smell of detergent and sweat on the case. Finally, he calls out, "Come in."

The door creaks open.

"Hey, sleepy head," Tyler says. 

Josh smiles softly at the nickname and tries to rub his eyes of sleep. Everything's calm, much calmer now, and since their increasing intimacy, he doesn't feel the same urgency to leap out of bed and prove himself.

"Good morning," Josh replies, slowly pulling himself up into a slumping seated position.

Tyler steps into the room and takes seat on Josh's bed. The mood has changed and Tyler seems so much softer, gentler than during the previous weeks' wake up calls. 

Josh notes that Tyler's still in his own bedclothes, a dark, fraying t-shirt, and boxer shorts, instead of already looking starched and pressed. 

Josh doesn't quite understand the stirring in his chest, but he lets the warm feeling linger.

Slowly, Tyler leans in close and the bed dips. Still sleep-addled, Josh barely has time to pull away. 

"Hey," he says, fending Tyler off. Tyler squints with skepticism. 

"Sorry, dude, I haven't brushed my teeth yet." 

It's the truth. He wants nothing more than to wake up to this, to a more soft-spoken Tyler, to gentle morning kisses, but his need to show respect towards his...boss? partner? takes precedence. 

Tyler rolls his eyes so hard, Josh fears they might pop out of their sockets. He's still always tinged with an air of haughtiness, Josh quickly decides. 

"Oh, whatever," Tyler says, choosing to lean in close anyhow. "I know I taste like asshole because of the chew. I won't groan because of your rank morning breath."

"Jesus," Josh says, breaking into a grin, and before he can say anything else, Tyler's on him, sloppy and wet and sweet. He returns the kiss, and when they break apart, his face is still torn wide in a grin. 

His visions of the night seem distant, now, fading quickly. 

Josh feels coy, his face warm. He curls into himself under Tyler's gaze, not used to the positive attention. 

"So what's... what's on the agenda for today?" he asks to break the silence. 

Tyler seems dazed, too, for a moment, but the question pulls him out of his headspace. 

"The Almavivas called. They want to check around the field for Donnie. He still hasn't turned up," he says. Josh tilts his head at that. 

"Really? Still no sign? I hope he's alright."

"Me too," Tyler says quickly. "But today we'll have plenty to do. Branding the new shipment and all."

"You need my help for that?" Josh says, a little wide-eyed, a little more awake now. He doesn't like the sound of branding, of having to take part in what must be a painful process for the cattle with zero experience under his belt. 

"Yeah," Tyler says. He lifts himself off the bed. "You won't have to brand them, but I need your help."

"Alright, sir," Josh says, swinging his legs out of bed. 

Tyler gives him a wide smile of crooked teeth, the first one Josh remembers really, fully seeing since he's arrived at Blurryface Ranch. 

"Oh, shut up," Tyler says. "See you at breakfast."

With that, he's off, with quiet socked feet pattering down the hall in place of the usual thumping cowboy boots. 

Josh turns to look at the painted sky and stretches himself long and lean. 

\--

When Josh finally scuffles into the kitchen, Tyler isn't there yet. Their breakfast, bacon and eggs again, is served and ready, but the cook himself is absent. 

"Hey Tyler," Josh calls out, already making his way to Tyler's room, the master bedroom. He has a small question to ask and figures there are no real boundaries between them any longer. He knocks on the half open door and storms in on Tyler changing. 

"When are the Almavivas stopping by-" Josh starts. 

Tyler nearly jumps out of his skin at the intrusion. Quickly, he pulls his plaid shirt closed to cover his torso. Before Tyler has himself wrapped up tightly and hidden, Josh sees a flash of some kind of long, white line. Maybe a scar, maybe a body modification of some kind. 

Still, his first priority is not to pry. 

"Oh," Josh says, surprised, but even more intrigued. "Sorry, uh, I didn't think you'd be so shy after last night."

Tyler's face burns. He shakes his head, and turns around to button up his shirt. 

"Just not used to being startled like this," he mumbles. 

Josh nods. 

To save Tyler from any more embarrassment, to keep himself from delving too much into his curiosity, he turns back the subject to his original question. 

"When are the Almavivas coming up here?"

Tyler turns back around and fiddles the top button on his shirt closed. He shrugs. 

"Didn't really say. Sometime in the afternoon, I guess. Why?"

Josh mirrors his shrug. After seeing a brief glimpse of Tyler's chest and his mysterious reaction, Josh's thoughts are elsewhere now. 

"Dunno," he says. "Just wondering."

\--

When breakfast is over, Tyler cleans up the dishes again. Josh is already tugging on his shoes when he notices Tyler reach into one of his spice cabinets for a large jar, filled with some kind of unlabeled goop. 

He tucks it into his leather bag and leans down to fold his pantlegs into his socks, a necessary prep for the cowboy boots to follow. 

Josh is curious again. 

"What's in the jar?" he asks, pulling the laces on his sneakers tight. 

"Watching me, were you?" Tyler says, not looking up. He sticks a leg into one of his boots. 

"I guess so."

"It's a salve. Poultice, I guess," Tyler goes on, slipping on his second boot. "For the cattle." 

"Really?" Josh says, now even more intrigued.. "What, like, to prevent infection?" 

Tyler makes his way to the door. Before tipping open the screen door, he turns back to shake his head. 

"No," he says. "For the pain."

With that, he darts off to the stable before Josh can ask any more burning questions. 

\-- 

Tyler takes the lead, riding ahead of Josh on Johnny Boy. Josh is secretly grateful for that. 

He's grateful that Tyler doesn't have to witness him white knuckling the saddle horn, that he doesn't have to see Josh using all the inner thigh strength he can muster with sore muscles to wrap himself around Jenna. 

It's better. He can trot, or rather, Jenna can trot without the possibility of losing her cargo on the way and without losing sight of Tyler and Johnny entirely. 

Still, he feels rattled and burning with adrenaline by the time they reach the cattle barn. 

Tyler's already there, dismounted, and tethering Johnny to the fence by the time Josh brings Jenna to a halt. 

He slips out of the saddle and blesses the solid ground beneath his feet. 

"Getting used to riding yet?" Tyler says, not hiding his amusement. 

Josh wants nothing more than to kiss the cheeky smirk off his face. 

"It's… it's better than it used to be," Josh says, poking out his tongue in response. 

Tyler quickly throws an arm around him and plants a kiss on his cheek. Before Josh can melt into the gesture, he digs his knuckles in Josh's scalp, some kind of juvenile noogie motion Josh remembers all too well from his youth. 

"We'll make a rodeo cowboy out of you yet," Tyler teases while Josh whimpers and tries to worm himself away. 

Just like that, Tyler is off him again, taking fast, long strides to the enclosure of newly delivered Angus cattle. "Time to get to work," he says with a wave of his hand. 

"You initiated the... _horse_ play, Tyler!" Josh huffs, and follows him, feeling some kind of rolling in his stomach, a rolling that also brings back memories of his youth- mainly, youthful crushes and the butterflies they bred. 

Tyler's already prepping his branding tools, digging out a metal rod with a geometric symbol at the end, but Josh can practically feel the face he's pulling. 

"Don't you dare," Tyler mumbles, reigning in the giggle threatening to spill over. 

Josh grins, until Tyler waves him over, suddenly much more solemn. 

"We're going to have to be serious now," Tyler says as soon as Josh takes his side. His voice is barely audible above the general clamor of the cattle. 

"Yeah, sure, no, I understand fully," Josh says. He only understands partially, but he wants to be competent, helpful. 

"The cattle," Tyler says, "can feel our intentions. Animals are sensitive. So keep yourself calm so they don't struggle." 

He hands the metal rod over to Josh and begins assembling coals into a black, rounded stove. Even though he looks fully immersed in his work, Josh can't help but prod a little himself. 

"What's the symbol?" he asks, turning over the branding tool in his hands. The end is round, with a line, a dash, a slanted line. If anything, it seems entirely nonsensical, an aesthetic choice at best. "Like, it's not your initials."

Tyler pulls his hands, smudged black, out of the stove, and reaches in his back pocket for matches. 

"I'm the only one who knows its meaning," he says, striking a match against the carton. It sparks and catches fire. "All that matters is that it's mine. Everyone knows it's mine."

Josh thinks back to the strange symbols on Tyler's gate, on the gate leading to Blurryface Ranch. He vaguely remembers a similar shape, so he can't argue with that. 

Tyler lights the stove and the flames begin to envelope the coals. He gently puckers his lips and blows into the fire, coaxing it to life. 

"Gimme the prod," Tyler says, and Josh complies. He hands it over. Tyler nudges it under the coals. 

With his free hand, he points to the cattle. 

"See that part of the fence? That small enclosure? We're going to lead them in there," he says, gesturing. 

Josh gulps nervously, but nods. 

"Go on," Tyler says. He waves his hand again. "Look at the latch. When a cow goes it, pull it. It'll keep the critter in place while I do what I have to do." 

Josh nods again. He inspects the little enclosure and tentatively pulls on the handle. Two panels come together. It looks snug, and Josh doesn't like the look of what they're about to do. 

"Alright," Tyler says. He stands from his crouching position in front of the little stove and flips open his bag. He joins Josh and sets his jar of salve, lid popped off, on one of the wooden beams of the holding pin. "Alright, almost there." 

Josh tries to distract himself with chatter. He doesn't like the work they're doing today, he doesn't want to focus on what's about to go down. 

"Um, what's in the salve?" he asks. "Some kind of numbing gel?"

"Arnica, poppy, valerian. Shit like that," Tyler says. His mind seems to be elsewhere. He's breathing deeply, like he's preparing himself for a frightening leap. "Focus, Josh. Let's get this over with." 

Josh gives him a thumbs up. 

With that, Tyler turns away to pull out the glowing cattle prod. Josh already feels a cold sweat begin to creep over his body. 

Tyler returns to the cattle pin and clicks his tongue. His eyes are trained on a specific, small bull, and its ears prick attentively. 

Tyler clicks again. 

The bull moves forward to get closer to Tyler, essentially trapping itself in the holding pin. 

Josh pulls the latch, pinning the young animal tightly between the two panels. It chirps curiously and tries to wiggle itself out of the trap to no avail. 

"I hate this part," Tyler says, stepping closer. He dips his fingers into the jar of salve and smears a thick coating onto the bull's flank.

Josh looks at Tyler, more questions threatening to bubble out, but he shuts his mouth quickly. 

Tyler's eyes are glassy with tears. His brows are furrowed, already adorned with small beads of sweat. 

"My family never did this," he says quietly, aligning the prod with the greasy patch of fur. "But it's county regulation now." 

He presses the glowing end of the prod against the animal. 

Josh hears the little bull whimper, Josh sees smoke and smells burning hair. His own eyes start to water, not just from smoke. He grits his teeth and looks away. 

Tyler pulls the instrument back quickly. 

"Animal abuse is county regulation," he whispers, eyeing the charred, circular mark in the animal's flesh. He turns to look up at Josh, unafraid of hiding his wet, blotchy face. He wipes snot away with his sleeve. 

"Let him go," he orders, and Josh quickly pushes back the latch. 

Tyler opens the front of the pin, allowing the confused little animal to skitter out of the barn. 

\--

Josh completes his daily chores at the stable and wanders back to the house. 

He finds Tyler under the tree beside the house again. 

This time, Tyler doesn't look distressed. If anything, he looks more serene than Josh ever remembers seeing him. Cross legged before the hulking tree, he almost looks more like a part of the foliage than a meditating human figure. 

Josh is happy to find Tyler like this, peaceful like this, because he was anything but peaceful after branding all the new cattle this morning. He was taut, silent, blunt. Josh was eager to flee to the stable, to the horses and let Tyler simmer down on his own. 

Josh likes the look of this Tyler far more.

Not wanting to cast any waves, he chooses to observe. For a moment, just being a spectator of something so quiet and still calms him by proxy.

It only takes a moment for the serenity to shatter. All it takes is a soft, curious sound. There's a gentle rattling, one that Josh isn't really familiar with and can't pinpoint immediately. 

He squints and catches sight of movement. His blood runs cold. 

Coiling itself around Tyler's idle form is a snake. It's thick, long, speckled to blend in the with dirt and adorned with a quivering, rattling tail. Josh can't believe his eyes. 

Josh almost screams when the snake uncoils to touch its head to Tyler's back. 

"Tyler!" Josh whispers as quietly as his nervous vocal chords will allow. He doesn't want to startle Tyler or the snake, fearing an outlash from the latter.

Tyler remains unmoving. The snake is still active, though, and it pokes its head into the warm, dark opening at the bottom of his long-sleeve shirt. 

"Tyler!" Josh says louder, more frantically. 

Tyler's eyes pop open and he lurches with the same start Josh gave him that morning as he was changing in the bedroom. He doesn't get up, though. He doesn't turn, he doesn't flee. He stares at Josh. 

The snake continues its path into Tyler's shirt. Now all Josh can see is its rattle poking out of the bottom of the shirt, by Tyler's waistband. Soon, that's gone too.

"Hey," Tyler whispers. 

Josh can barely contain himself, now addled with electricity, fear, anxiety. He wants to do something, he wants to save Tyler, but his fear of startling the serpent keeps him rooted in place, save for a full-body tremor. 

"Come here," Tyler commands, bringing him back to earth. 

Josh wants to turn and flee, but he takes a couple of careful steps forward. He blinks and blinks at the bulging form wriggling under Tyler's clothes. 

"Tyler, Tyler, Tyler-" he squeaks, but Tyler gives him a gentle smile. 

"Shh," he says, as if consoling a baby. "Josh, do you trust me? I trust you." 

His tone is so calm, so plain, Josh feels even more surreal and out of place. He's not sure if he's dreaming or not when the snake pokes its head out of Tyler's sleeve. 

"Um," he says, throat dry. "Um, I think I do." 

"Don't think about it," Tyler goes on. "Feel it. Trust me and trust her. She won't hurt you."

Tyler brushes a fingertip over the snake's scaled head as if to prove his point. It remains still, save for the quick whip of its delicate little tongue. 

Josh can taste bile in the back of his throat. 

Before he can think or feel or do anything else, he hears the clatter of the pick up truck coming down the dirt path leading to the field. He whips around to see the Almaviva tin can rolling its way to the ranch house.

He doesn't even remember their arrival, but he figures they showed up to execute their search party while he was tending the horses, while Tyler was doing whatever else in the ranch house. 

Josh feels light-headed; all of this is too much, too much to process right now. 

The pick-up truck rolls to a stop a few feet away from them, away from the tree. 

Tyler's standing now, brushing dirt off his knees. Josh doesn't know where the snake is. He doesn't want to know where the snake is. 

He tears his eyes from Tyler and stares at the men in the truck. Of the three, he recognizes two. Their faces are hard and down-turned. 

Josh tries to steady his breath, bracing for the worst.

All three climb out of their truck, their cowboy hats pressed over their chests. 

"Hey!" Tyler says, friendly tone bordering on inappropriate. "What's up? Did you find Donnie?"

Jack nods stiffly, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

The third man, surely another brother, looks to the ground. 

"We did," he says quietly. 

Jeb is the most emotional, his face already quivering. 

"Isn't that good news?" Tyler says softly. He quickly wipes away his smile to mirror the tone of the men across from him. 

"We found his body," Jeb says, his voice breaking half-way through the sentence. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tyler says with too much vigor. Before anyone can make a note of his bad acting, he wraps his arms around Jeb in a tight, consoling embrace. 

Josh's eyes grow wide. Time seems to slow to a still. What happens in a matter of seconds all unfolds in front of him like a series of photo stills. 

Tyler makes eye contact with him from over Jeb's shoulder and his face pulls into a dark smile. 

Josh sees it, then. Josh sees the serpent's head nudge its way out of Tyler's sleeve again. 

Josh can't move. Josh can't even quiver. 

The snake does move. Her jaws unhinge, revealing large, curved, ugly fangs. 

In an instant, they're buried deep into Jeb's collar. 

In an instant, Josh hears a piercing scream and the embrace breaks apart before his eyes. The snake is nowhere to be seen. 

"Jesus!" Jeb cries out, cupping his neck. "What the fuck did you do?" 

Tyler feigns surprise. 

"What are you talking about?" he counters. He covers his face and in that moment, Josh knows it's to hide another smile. 

Jeb presses his palm into his own neck full force, his leathery face contorting in pain. 

"D-did you bite me?! I-I… feel like I'm on fire!" 

Tyler shakes his head, brow now furrowed. He turns to Jack and the other man. "Did you see me bite him? I have no idea what he's going on about." 

The other brother shakes his head. "No idea what's gotten into him." 

He moves in to wrap his arm around Jeb and corral him to the parked pick-up. "Let's get you home, see what's up. Maybe a yellow jacket gotcha when you weren't lookin'." 

By this point, Jeb is a mess of whimpers and hot tears. He does his best to climb into the truck, dropping against the dashboard in agony. His brother strokes his back softly. 

Jack's staring intently at Tyler. 

Of all the surreal imagery that just unfolded before him, Jack's unflappable face disturbs Josh the most. He almost wants to curl himself around Tyler and lead him away to a safer place as well. 

"Do we know each other?" he says, eyes pinned on Tyler.

"Of course we know each other, Jack," Tyler says plainly. "We're business partners." 

"No," Jack says, already making his way around to the driver's seat of the pick-up truck. "That's not what I meant. You seem familiar."

"I have one of those faces," Tyler says. He shrugs nonchalantly and looks down to pick at his nails. 

Jack doesn't say anything. He doesn't offer any parting words. He climbs into the truck and revs the engine. With a screech, he curves out of the driveway, jostling around the wrapped figure in the back. 

Josh can't even begin to digest everything that just went down. He gapes at the receding vehicle. 

Tyler leans down to let the serpent out of his sleeve. Josh swears he hears him whisper a soft "thank you" as it slithers across the dirt, quickly fleeing to seek shelter under a pile of rocks. 

Tyler stands and hops up the steps of the porch. 

"Come on," he says to Josh, who's still frozen in place. "Let's have some dinner. I'm sure you're starving." 

Josh isn't hungry. 

\--

Tyler definitely is hungry. He scrapes his bowl of potatoes and greens clean in an instant. 

Josh is still pushing around his vegetables stiffly when Tyler goes back for seconds. 

Josh feels deeply unsettled, shaken to his core. With so many questions rattling around in his brain, he doesn't even know where to begin. He tries not to focus on his thrumming pulse. 

Tyler, seemingly undisturbed by everything that went down, is the first to break the silence. As he's scooping up the last of the sauce from his second bowl, he says, "I know you saw." 

Josh's eyes shoot up and meet Tyler's.

His gaze is soft, but it isn't enough to soothe Josh. 

"I…" Josh starts carefully. "I don't even know where to begin." 

Tyler taps the table. 

"Take your time," he says with a smile, trying to tease Josh, trying to lighten the mood. Now isn't the time for horseplay. 

"What the fuck was that?" Josh snaps, his fingers curled tightly around his spoon. 

Tyler's face drops into a more serious expression. 

"I'm not the bad guy," he says quietly, tracing shapes into the wood of the table. He doesn't meet Josh's gaze.

"I'm pretty sure you somehow used a snake to attack a grieving man today," Josh spits back. He's shaking again at the thought, at the images pouring back into his brain like a bad horror movie. 

"Look," Tyler says. He straightens his posture and lays both hands flat against the table. "You don't have the full story. I mean. You don't have it yet. I think, I think you'll figure it out soon. I trust you." 

Josh jumps up from his chair. He can't help it, he can't reign in his emotions; he's too afraid, he doesn't understand what's happening and the thought that he can't even flee makes his head spin. He feels cornered, like an animal. 

"What are you talking about?!" he says, voice growing louder. "I have no idea what's going on! Why do you trust me? Why does that matter? How am I supposed to trust you? I don't know how you could do what you did today, I don't know how you did it, I don't under-" 

He's rattling off words so fast they quickly reach incoherency. Tyler's there, though, in full, already darting around the table to wrap Josh in an embrace. 

Josh wants to be mad, but he can't help the soothing effect the hug has on him. With so many jarring images swimming through his mind, he doesn't understand anything, least of all why his heartbeat and breathing are slowing despite the tension of the situation. 

Tyler cradles the back of his head with his hand, tucking him into the crook of his neck. 

"It's okay," he whispers. Gently, with his other hand, he rubs the spot between Josh's shoulder blades. 

Josh sighs deeply. 

"They'll make sense," Tyler murmurs. Josh doesn't know if he hears the next part or imagines it because it's so soft, almost like it's far away. "The dreams."

Defeated, Josh says, "I don't understand," and buries his face deeper into Tyler.

Tyler kisses his temple. 

\--

By the time Josh has washed himself of the day's grime, a thunder storm takes hold of the night. 

He patters into the room, still dripping from his shower, just in time to pull his windows shut. Rain pelts the glass instantly. Somehow, despite the noise, it feels cleansing, like a lullaby to his shaken nerves. 

He pulls on a shirt and a pair of boxers, ignoring the moisture seeping into them, and tucks himself into his nest of sheets. 

After everything, all the anxiety and the shock of the day, he feels so heavy, so drained that all he wants to do is rest. 

He's out in an instant and the dream starts, like the dreams do every night. 

Thunder cracks in the dark, wooden house. 

It's raining in the dream, too. 

The child gazes out the window, mesmerized by the fleeting gashes of lightening tearing up the sky. 

He draws a circle into the foggy window panes. 

The scene looks unassuming, but Josh feels the static in the air. 

There's a knock. 

"Come in," the boy calls. 

It's the mother. She looks pale, gaunt. Despite her smile, she's wringing her hands. 

"Sweetie," she says. "They're here." 

The child doesn't look at her. 

"I don't understand why I have to do this," he says sternly. 

"Oh honey," she says weakly, like she's recited her speech a thousand times before. "You're of age now. We have to pay dues. We always had to pay dues…" 

The child doesn't want to understand. 

Stubbornly, he crosses his arms and glares at his own reflection in the window. 

"The firstborn daughter," the mother goes on, placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "When she comes of age-"

The child bristles like he's been shocked. He pulls away. 

"I'm not," he spits, now cowering at the edge of his bed, nose buried in the corner of the room. 

A flash of light illuminates the room for just a second. It reveals the child's fists, bunched in the sheets. 

Another flash reveals the mother creeping out. 

Another reveals a darkened figure at the threshold of the door. 

The figure steps in. 

There's another behind it. After this one steps in, there's another. 

After it, a final figure steps in.

Their labored breathing cuts the room. 

The child turns around, expressionless. His eyes are wide but dry.

"Acting brave for her primae noctis," the first figure growls. It's the largest, most imposing of all four. 

With the room now dark, Josh can't see its face. Still, he hears the sneer. 

The figure pulls the child out of the corner. It tosses him flat on the bed. 

Josh feels the primal fear aching inside the child. 

He feels the hot, bitter breath of the figure fanning over the child's face. 

He hears the clinking of metal. He hears the rustle of clothes. 

The figure leans over to encroach the child in darkness, but suddenly, Josh tastes a hot gush of rust.

He feels it run all across his- no, the child's- face and neck. 

He hears a guttural scream. A flash of lightening reveals the figure's grimace. It reveals his hand covering the hole in his neck. It reveals rivulets of blood streaming between his splayed fingers. 

It reveals the child darting out of the room. 

A mixture of sensations, Josh is completely disoriented when he blinks back to his own dark room, to something wet, but gentle working against his neck.

Josh gasps back into consciousness and the lips against his neck detach themselves. 

A flash of lightening reveals Tyler above him. 

A flash of lightening reveals Tyler, shirtless. It reveals two straight, milky scars across his chest. 

Josh is out of breath. He can hardly get out the words. 

"My dream-" he says. 

"I know," Tyler says, bending down to stop his flow of thoughts with a kiss. 

Josh wraps his arms around Tyler's thin frame above him. He needs to know this is real; he needs to ground himself. He feels Tyler's even breathing and knows it's all real now.

"Let's talk about it in the morning," he breathes across Josh's mouth. He works his way to the crook of his neck with more kisses, continuing what he started. 

Josh gives in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) So all of this happened (don't worry, I won't leave y'all hanging with that ending). 
> 
> I say it again and again, but thanks so much for your comments and overwhelming love/support!


	8. Gun Hip, Swollen Lip, Bottle Sip

It's dark and storming and the lights are out, so Josh can't really see anything between the quick shocks of lightening that brighten the room for just a second. 

He can feel, though. He can feel the heavy weight of Tyler's bottom grinding against his crotch. He runs his hands over Tyler's lithe, muscular back and feels skin so smooth for someone so rugged. He feels the hot mouth working his jugular again and again, like the hunger can't be satiated. 

He tastes blood, only faintly, from his dream. Even more, he tastes the last remnants of mint and stubborn tobacco flecks Tyler left on his tongue when he quieted him with a kiss. 

He smells rich cedar wood, although he couldn't name the scent, and Tyler's sweat folding all around him like a cloak, protecting him from the world.

He hears Tyler gasp softly into the crook of his neck when he threads his hair through soft, brown locks. 

Josh doesn't need to see to know that this is real. Josh doesn't need to see anymore, anymore of what he saw, to understand. 

When Tyler opens his mouth to gently sink his teeth into the tender spot on Josh's throat, he really understands. 

He closes his eyes to immerse himself in the feeling. Images of gnarled, aged scars on the greasy necks of patriarchs dance behind his eyes. Visions of a child with ruby streaks dribbling down his chin soon follow.

Tyler remains gentle, even though he's quaking all over now. Tyler's hand titters like a leaf as it dips under Josh's shirt and raises goosebumps with its coolness. 

Josh sits up, with his back against the headboard, now eye-level with Tyler's chest. 

Josh places a kiss on his sternum, then travels across each scar with gentle attention. Slow kisses, a darting tongue, both are enough and he doesn't feel the need to further mark already marked flesh. 

Josh notices Tyler's hand, then, already roaming the waistband of his boxers. 

Before anything escalates, Josh starts to whisper his concerns, to make it known that Tyler's quivering hasn't gone unnoticed. 

"Hey," he says, breath fanning across Tyler's chest. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Tyler looks down and into Josh's eyes. It's dark, so all Josh sees is shadows, but he knows there's something soft in Tyler's face, no fear, no malice. 

"Yes," he says. He chews his lip for a moment, chewing on the words to follow. "I trust you." 

Josh smiles at that and leans up to seal their deal with another kiss. 

Tyler returns it, and despite his eagerness, perhaps because of it, their teeth clack. 

Josh smiles at that too. 

Tyler's hands are back to his boxers again, this time less tentative. He leans back and lifts himself off Josh, and Josh complies, bucking his hips into the air enough to allow Tyler to slide off the thin cloth. 

He crosses his arms and grabs the bottom seam of his shirt to pull it over his head as well. 

Josh feels exposed, at mercy. The butterflies start and he feels like a fumbling schoolboy again, unsure what to do with himself. 

He places his hands on Tyler's hips. 

All his fumbling doesn't matter, because Tyler is in control. Josh is the prey, yielding to the other's control. 

Tyler's hands flood around him, eager to cover as much of his bare skin as they can. He kisses Josh deeply, and, with his nails now gently raking Josh's back, he begins to grind against his cock. 

Josh whimpers at that, almost losing focus of the kiss. 

Tyler nibbles his lower lip, bringing back his attention, and he grinds and grinds, reducing both himself and Josh to mess of share breaths.

Just as Josh thinks he's on the brink of getting off from grinding alone, Tyler breaks the kiss, breaks the contact between his briefs and Josh's cock.

When he sits up, the stickiness seeping through his black underwear connects them like a web. 

A flash of lightning reveals Tyler's intent, pleading gaze. Josh hooks his thumbs under Tyler's waistband and starts to pull. 

Before Josh can eliminate the final barrier of clothing between them, Tyler starts to whisper. 

Another flash of lightning reveals him for a second, reveals that his eyes are closed now, like he's lost in his mind. 

"Josh," he says softly. Josh is here, Josh is listening, with his hands frozen in place on Tyler's hips. 

"Have you ever been with a-" he goes on. Josh doesn't like the question, doesn't like Tyler's hesitation. 

"Boy?" Josh completes the thought. "Yes, I have." 

Tyler's eyes flutter open, like insect wings clicking apart. He leans into Josh and grins against his bare shoulder. 

"No," he says, instantly recapturing his pride. "A man." 

Like that, Tyler's ribcage shakes and rattles with quiet laughter. 

"Oh, shut up," Josh says, wishing the room were brighter to reveal his rolling eyes, his exasperated face. 

He starts to tug on Tyler's waistband again and Tyler leans to the side to allow him access. After a tangle of limbs, adjusting awkwardly, pulling at cotton and elastic, Josh manages to get them off. 

Tyler sits himself on Josh's lap again. Their pubic hair connects, blends into one continuous valley of dark curls, at least from what Josh can see with his eyes adjusting to the dark. 

Josh doesn't care where his body ends and Tyler's begins. 

Tyler presses a splayed hand to the center of his chest and plants him firmly into the mattress. 

With his face turned to the sky, Tyler rocks himself back and forth against Josh, now grinding with nothing between them, skin on skin, wet and slick. 

The image that the lightning reveals for the briefest moment is one Josh won't ever forget. Tyler, completely unhinged, lips parted, lost in a sea of pleasure- the image burns into his mind as he drinks it in with hooded eyes.

Through the patter of rain, through the storm, he almost overhears Tyler's quiet, aching plea.  
"Fuck me already."

But Josh does hear it. 

Tyler lifts himself again, allowing access, explicitly inviting it. 

Josh takes his cock with one hand and angles it against Tyler's cunt. Tyler eases himself down again, until he's seated firmly again, until Josh is buried to the hilt. 

For a moment, they both breath out in unison. For a moment, they're still.

It only lasts a moment before Tyler crashes down on him like waves. 

He latches himself to Josh in a hurried kiss and starts to fuck himself eagerly, and Josh, Josh can't help but groan.

As he rolls his body, he darts a hand between his thighs to rub his clit. 

A flash of lightning and Josh can't stifle a groan when he sees Tyler on top of him like this, pleasuring himself like this. 

When Tyler seems like he's too far gone, too spent to take the reigns of his ride any longer, Josh holds his hips firmly and keeps him in place. With his heels digging into the mattress underneath, he thrusts himself up and deep into Tyler. 

Again and again, he thrusts and thrusts, with Tyler coming undone entirely in his hands. 

Tyler massages his clit more frantically until Josh swears he hears his wrist pop and crackle. He isn't too focused, though, because his thoughts are more on holding off, not sinking too deep into the sensation or the fleeting visuals revealed by lightning looping in his brain. 

He has to hold off.

He listens for Tyler's quickening breath. 

His roaming hands feel Tyler's muscles tense. 

Josh speeds up. 

As the thunder outside rumbles and shakes him to his core, Tyler quivers and clenches around him. He calls out something primal, raspy and high-pitched from the back of his throat as he cums, and it's nearly enough to set Josh off too. 

Tyler stops for a moment to immerse himself in the feeling and to catch his breath. When he comes back down to earth, he looks down at Josh with an impish expression. Josh doesn't need to see it to feel it in his core. 

Tyler bounces again, harder than before, steadily, until Josh is an incoherent mess himself. 

"Tyler-," he pants. "Shit, Tyler, I'm, I'm, I'm…" 

Tyler climbs off quickly and Josh winces at the sudden loss of contact.  
Tyler isn't cruel, though.

Not bothered one bit by his own wetness coating Josh's cock, Tyler plunges his mouth over his head and licks, licks, licks. It's the final straw, it's all Josh can take, and with that, his hips writhe and stutter and he cums into Tyler's mouth. 

When the aftershocks finally relent, Tyler pulls his lips off. 

"Jesus," Josh breathes, heart still pounding in his ears, suddenly spent, exhausted. "Jesus, Tyler."

"Yeah," Tyler says quietly, agreeing. He twists his index finger in the curls above Josh's cock, face resting against Josh's tummy. 

"You're so much," Josh says, the first tendrils of sleep already robbing him of coherency. "There's so much to talk about…"

Tyler responds with a kiss against his navel. 

Before he can say anymore, Josh fades out of consciousness. 

\--

When Josh awakens again, it's to a steady rapping sound. 

Josh blinks and blinks, willing himself awake as quickly as possible to assess his surroundings, to know if what happened in the middle of the night was real or just a fleeting fantasy. 

When he finds his bed cold and empty, his heart sinks. When he peeks under the covers and sees a wad of discarded clothing and his own exposed crotch, he smiles to himself. 

The rapping is steady, relentless. It's not coming from the door, though. 

Josh groans and rolls over to face the window. There isn't much light filtering into the room and he quickly realizes why. 

The wind whistles through a crack in the pane, an eerie tune. The drumming shutters add the beat. Swirling dark dust obscures the sunrise. 

Josh pulls himself out of bed and reaches for a fresh outfit, still crammed in his bag from his arrival. He pulls on jeans and leans over to pull open the window. 

For a moment, he regrets his decision when the granules instantly flood the room and his vision. Blindly fumbling, he feels for the shutters. When he has them, he yanks them shut, full force. 

He slams the window right after. 

His eyes burn, but that's not the issue, now. Tyler's gone, he realizes, and that's not good, not with the threatening winds outside, not after what happened between them in the night, not after the dreams, not after everything that's happened. 

Frantically, he pulls on socks, the heel bunched up ugly around his ankle. He doesn't care. His shirt isn't fresh. He doesn't care. 

Josh darts out of his room and calls into the house. 

"Tyler?" he says, already a bundle of nerves. 

He enters Tyler's room, no warning.

The bed is empty, made up neatly. His journal is open on the bed and there are curious jars, satchels, whatever else, strewn across the black comforter. 

The black, shiny revolver worries Josh the most. 

He doesn't stop to inspect it further, though. 

He patters into the kitchen, only to find it empty too. 

Josh feels like crying. Josh feels a knot in his stomach. 

He forces his feet into his sneakers without undoing the laces. 

In the last possible second, Josh thinks to cover his nose and mouth with his shirt. He rips open the front door, kicking open the screen with one foot. 

Before glancing around, he cries out Tyler's name into the sandstorm. 

Josh blinks and blinks, his eyes already filling with grit. Still, his eyes roam the front yard desperately.

When he pans to the hulking tree, he sees a darkened figure, a scarf tied over its face, waving one arm in his direction.

"Josh!" Tyler cries out, his one hand waving and the other gripping onto a shovel planted firmly in the dirt. His clothes whip and flutter around him something fierce. 

"Tyler!" Josh repeats. "Come inside!" 

Tyler violently shakes his head. 

"I'll be done soon!" he yells back. "Then I gotta secure the stable! I'll be back soon!" 

Josh wants to run out and carry Tyler back into the house himself, wants to protect him, but all he can do is answer with a thumbs up. 

Josh stumbles back into the house and the nearest window, the one with a solid view of the old tree.

He watches Tyler shovel and dig, throwing dirt and gravel into the swirling sands. 

He finally plants his shovel into the ground.

When he sees Tyler drag a dark, heavy shape over from behind him, he breaks into a cold sweat. 

With all the gentleness possible in the extreme weather, Tyler rolls the furry body into the hole. 

Josh can already feel tears pricking his vision. 

Tyler scoops dirt into the grave and packs it firmly with care. When the grave is full enough, Tyler stands, with his hands clasped together in prayer.

Josh can't see his mouth move through the scarf, but he knows, he knows Tyler is paying respects. 

A tear spills over and catches on Josh's lip. 

Still, eager to have Tyler back inside, safe and sound, he taps the glass of the window with his knuckles. 

Tyler glances up. He throws Josh a thumbs-up through the window and points wildly in the direction of the stable. 

Josh nods, but before taking his place behind another window to watch Tyler and wring his hands, he jumps to life. 

Back in his room, he digs and digs for his jacket. He plunges his arms into the sleeves and zips it up as high as it will go. He throws the hood over his head and pulls the strings tight. 

To protect his lungs, he ties a long sleeved shirt around his face, not having much more protection packed in his summer wardrobe. 

Josh springs out of the room and crashes through the front door again. He doesn't stop this time, but instead, stomps quickly down the stairs and dashes around the house, following the path to the stable, the one he can barely see now. 

He runs and runs and tries his best not to wheeze. He runs until his legs and lungs and eyes burn and doesn't stop when he sees Tyler. 

Josh runs to join him, to help him lock the stable's huge wooden door, the same one the wind keeps catching and trying to rip out of Tyler's hands. 

Tyler jumps when Josh lands beside him and starts to help him pull, but he shouts "Thanks!" as soon as he realizes who the clothed form is. 

Together, they pull the lumbering door shut. 

While Tyler fiddles with the latch, Josh hears the horses whinnying inside, frantic, fearful and he feels their distress. 

Still, this is the safest place for them. Josh knows that Tyler knows what's best. 

He trusts Tyler's instincts beyond anything. 

When the door is firmly locked up, Josh waves to Tyler, waves in the direction of the ranch house. 

"Come on!" he shouts, but Tyler doesn't listen. He's shuffling through his bag, looking for something. 

Josh wants to cry. 

Tyler pulls out a mason jar, black and shining from the contents inside. 

"One second!" Tyler shouts back. He rips the lid off the jar and tosses it to Josh, who barely catches it in all the bustle. 

In an instant, Tyler's fingers are in the dark paste. In an instant, despite the thick, dusty, violent atmosphere, he's painting the door of the stable with a dark line. 

He dips his hand again, and paints a large circle. 

A circle bisected with a line, that's the symbol Tyler christens the stable with. He takes a moment to inspect his work, then grabs the lid from Josh and twists it back on the jar. 

"Ready!" he shouts, and Josh can't express his overwhelming relief. He just reaches for Tyler's hand, the nearest one, the one dark and smudged, and yanks him along. 

With their hands linked and sticky, they sprint back to the house. 

\-- 

Back inside, Tyler's rinsing his hand clean in the kitchen sink when Josh speaks up again. 

"What's going on?" he asks. He knows the question is broad, but he hardly knows where to start. 

"That's vague," Tyler says quietly. "Considering everything." 

Josh rolls his eyes. 

"You're vague," he retorts. 

Tyler gives a small smile, one Josh finds a little sad, and shakes his head. 

"Just ask me directly and I'll clear things up for you," he says finally, turning off the faucet. 

Josh thinks for a moment, flipping the faucet back on to wash his own hands. 

"Was that…" he starts carefully. "Was that Ruby? The body you were burying out there…" 

Tyler is quiet for a moment. When Josh glances at him, his eyes are turned down, glassy. 

"Yeah," he says. 

"I'm so sorry," Josh says, biting back his own tears again. "What happened?" 

"They got her," Tyler says. When Josh's eyes roam his face for answers, he finally goes on. "The Almavivas. They know what I did, who I am. They sent me a message and Ruby was the messenger." 

His words are tight, but steady. He pulls a note from his breast pocket, one withered and stained with rusty spots. Josh glances over the words. 

"We know who Blurryface is. We know why he wants us dead," the ugly scrawl reads. 

Josh wants to wrap him in a hug. Josh does. 

Josh doesn't bother to dry his hands and wraps his arms around Tyler's frame. 

"I'm so sorry," he says, fully meaning it. Tyler nods against his shoulder. 

"Me too." 

Josh needs more, though. Josh can't quite piece everything together just yet. He withdraws his embrace and places his hands on Tyler's shoulders. 

Expression warm, with not a shred of fear behind his face, Josh says, "Who are you, Tyler?"

Tyler sighs, breath shaky. Josh knows this is hard, Josh knows saying it aloud is harder. 

"I'm Tyler Joseph- now, that is," he says, staring back at Josh with tired eyes. "Old name doesn't matter. I'm the kid." 

Josh doesn't say anything. The cogs in his mind are turning.  
"From your dreams?" Tyler adds, raising an eyebrow. 

"I know that," Josh says quietly. "I know that now." He doesn't know how Tyler knows about his dreams, but other questions are more important now. 

"The men are…" Josh says, and Tyler nods sharply before he can finish.

"The Almavivas control this county. We had to pay dues, my parents and I… Everyone around these parts has to pay dues. They control the land, the animals, the people. Everything."

Josh nods, the picture coming together in his mind. 

"And you're getting revenge? For what they… they did to your family?"

Tyler nods, but stops to shake his head instead. 

"I'm putting a stop to all of it," he says, a fire smoldering behind his words. "Once and for all."

"I don't understand how…" Josh says, roaming his mind for the words. "I don't understand how all this works." He's being vague again, but so many examples of surreal happenings from his weeks at the ranch flood his mind that he doesn't know where to begin. 

Tyler seems to understand what he means.

"It's a lot," he says. He doesn't explain further. Instead, he says, "This isn't what you signed up for." 

Josh has to laugh, then, a quick breath bouncing out of his throat. 

"Yeah, no kidding."

Tyler smiles. 

"I switch ranch hands pretty quickly. I never thought anyone would get this involved. The position was supposed to be fleeting." 

"Lucky me," Josh says. He's not being sarcastic. 

"I trust you-," Tyler starts, and Josh interrupts.

"You've mentioned that a couple of times." 

Tyler rolls his eyes and mutters, "Shut up. Alright, I trust you, but do you want to know why?" 

Josh wipes the playful grin off his face. He swallows tightly and nods.  
"The animals love you. Ruby, Jenna," he says. "Animals sense good. I sensed good in you. Something earnest. I have… great intuition…" 

The final sentence feels incomplete, but Tyler doesn't seem to want to finish it. 

"Johnny Boy hates me," Josh points out. 

Tyler can't exactly argue with that, but when his expression grows morose, Josh thinks back on blood and rust and wheezing, rattling beasts in dark structures. 

"He doesn't trust anyone," Tyler says, staring at his shoes. "He was Dad's horse. He wasn't ever the same after what happened." 

"I'm so sorry," Josh says again. 

Tyler shrugs and shakes Josh's hands from his shoulders carefully.  
"You can't change the past," he says. "But you sure can fuck with the present." 

There's a glint in his eyes, one that scares and excites Josh. 

"Look," Tyler goes on. "I know you didn't sign up for this. Fleeing is kind of hard, though. This storm isn't going to ease up soon. The Almavivas know now, and they'll do anything to hurt me. I can… I can shelter you." 

After everything, after peeping into Tyler's past through the intimate filter of dreams, Josh can't agree to that. 

"I want to fight," he says resolutely. 

Tyler tilts his head. 

"What?" 

"I want to help you take them down." Sincere, genuine as always, Josh means every word. There's a fire sparking behind his eyes now, too, on Tyler's behalf. 

"Are you sure about that? I mean-" 

"Tyler," Josh interrupts him. He stares Tyler down. "I mean it." 

Tyler's face cracks another small smile. 

"We'll, uh, have some work to do." 

Josh takes his hand and holds it firmly against his chest, against his heart 

"Tell me what to do." 

\-- 

Josh is pretty confused after Tyler flips back the living room rug to reveal a large, shaky circle carved into the floorboards. 

When Tyler takes his dagger and follows the groove with his eyes closed, Josh thinks faintly back on Halloween, on pointed, crumpling polyester hats and latex warts. 

He thinks briefly of his favorite TV characters, from shows he devoured without second thought as a child, of Sabrina and Salem. 

He thinks back on the Arthur Miller play he analyzed in school, the project for which he received an embarrassing D+.

When Tyler starts muttering under his breath, Josh returns to the present moment, stuffing all the caricatures and tropes back into his mind. 

Tyler flicks a lighter and ignites the end of a bundle of herbs. Still whispering something unintelligible under his breath, he takes the trail of smoke around the circle. 

Josh blinks and blinks, knows he's awake, but feels more enchanted and hazy with every passing moment. 

Tyler stubs out the bundle and dips his hands into a bowl of water. He flicks his wrist, casting a small shower of droplets all around the circle. 

When that's done, when Josh is entirely lost, Tyler places a candle on the rim of the circle. 

Finally, he looks to Josh. 

"It's time," he says, voice low. 

Josh is all nerves again, not sure of what's to come, not sure of what his Christian parents would say if they could see him now. 

Tyler beckons him over with his hand. 

Josh stands and joins him. 

Tyler points to the left of the candle. 

"Enter here," he commands, and Josh does so, carefully tiptoeing into the circle. 

He feels a wave of goosebumps rush over his skin.

Tyler steps in, too, close inside the tight circle. He faces Josh and takes both his hands into his own. 

Josh can't help but shake in their grasp, although Tyler's hands are so warm, almost burning. 

"Relax," Tyler says. His tone is gentle, soothing. "We're only gathering energy." 

Josh nods, still fearful of the unknown, but already softening in Tyler's care. 

Tyler closes his eyes. 

"Close your eyes," he tells Josh 

Josh closes his eyes, too. 

"Repeat after me," he says. Josh doesn't say anything, doesn't bother to nod. He agrees silently. 

"I know that in aught I do, the Gods are with," Tyler says, completely solemn. 

Josh squeaks out the words. 

"They abide in me and I in them, forever."

Josh's voice almost wavers. 

"No evil shall be entertained, for purity is the dweller within me and about me."

Josh repeats dutifully. 

"Love unto all things."

Josh speaks more clearly.

"So be it forever."

Josh repeats the final words and carefully opens his eyes. Tyler's eyes are open, too. 

"Will you sing with me?" he says quietly. "Singing creates… power. Singing is a connection to the divine." 

Filled with peace, now, feeling almost sedated by the hypnotic effects of the prayer, Josh shakes his shame away. Not usually a fan of singing, the idea doesn't disturb him in the slightest now.

"I will," he says. 

Tyler smiles and begins. 

"A shadow tilts its head at me…" 

They sing until the candle burns to its base and the room becomes dark. 

\-- 

Preparing for sleep isn't anything like it has been the nights before. 

It isn't like any of the bedtime routines Josh has practiced in his life so far. 

Cross-legged, they're seated across from each other on Tyler's bed. They're both still in their working clothes. 

Tyler's jar of black paste rests between them. It's open and he's dipping his fingers again and again, to scoop out the mixture and paint his neck an ominous black. 

"So," Josh says, wanting answers, eager now that he knows he'll get them. "What's this, exactly?"

Tyler slathers his neck and starts to anoint his wrist and hands, too. 

"This is soot," he explains. "Mixed with amaranth, sage, rosemary and cedar wood. It's a protective… shield, so to speak." 

When his hands are coated, he points at Josh's hands. 

Josh carefully gives them over. 

With his index finger, Tyler paints a foreign, geometric symbol on the back of one hand. On the other, he draws his brand, the same one adorning all this cattle. 

When he's done, Josh inspects his work. 

"Why these markings?" 

Tyler shrugs. "They're my sigils." 

"Alright," Josh says, nodding, not fully understanding. "Cool." 

Just as Tyler's face is about to break into a crooked grin, the power cuts. 

"They'll be here soon," Tyler whispers, tone matching the howling winds outside. 

Josh's blood runs cold.

Josh starts to quiver when Tyler's hand creeps over the comforter, rustling quietly like a spider, to pick up his gun. 

He wants to throw up when he hears Tyler slide it into his holster. 

"W-what's the gun for?" he stammers. 

"Magic can only influence," he says, plainly. "Guns can kill." 

Josh breathes deeply, overwhelmed by adrenaline already. 

He jumps when he feels Tyler place the cool hilt of his dagger into his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) Are things coming together for y'all? 
> 
> This fic!! Broke!! 100 kudos!! Thank you guys so much, damn?! Your comments make me so... dare I say... weepy!!


	9. You Blew Through Me Like Bullet Holes

They head out to the stable with their hands linked again. 

It's the only thing keeping Josh tethered throughout the gravity of the situation. He doesn't even think of the soot transferring from his palm to Tyler's.

He feels the sheath of Tyler's dagger, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, digging into his back with every step. 

It's the dark around them that frightens Josh the most. 

It's the unknown, what could be lurking in the shadows. Usually, there's some kind of illumination from the house, but everything is pitch black from the power being cut, even darker than when he arrived weeks ago. 

The windstorm isn't as severe as it was, but it's still beating around them, softly, and the sands are still snuffing out the moonlight.

Tyler's steady clink-clink, his jangling spurs, are his only guide. 

Despite the dark, Tyler knows his way around. They reach the stable and he fumbles with the latch, somehow able to open it even though Josh can't even see his own hands. 

They step inside to the soft snorting and whinnying of relieved horses. 

Tyler flicks his lighter and casts an eerie glow around his face. 

Josh welcomes the sight, even despite his knotted brows and stern expression. 

"Alright," he says, waving his lighter around the wooden shelves. "We're going to saddle up and head down to the barn. When they strike, they'll try to get my animals too." 

"Got it," Josh says, voice meek. He's still on board, without any doubt in his mind, but he can't help that this night has him scared shitless already.

Tyler finds what he's looking for. He reaches for a rusty lantern and touches his lighter's flame to the cotton wick inside. 

It sputters to life, casting a wider field of sight around them. 

Josh turns to Jenna. She's still, but her ears are pricked forward with intrigue. 

Josh knows the animals aren't stupid. Their internal clocks know that this isn't right, that a midnight ride is out of character for their caretakers. 

He enters Jenna's stall to pat her, to stroke her nose and beg for her forgiveness prematurely.

Tyler's already by Johnny's side, his palm flat on the horse's neck. His eyes are closed and Josh knows, without knowing the intricacies of Tyler's beliefs, that he's comforting Johnny, calming him for the battle to come. 

Through the creaking wood, agitated by the winds, Josh can make out a few words of Tyler's soft whispering. 

"…but we're going to end it. I know you need this, too," he says. He opens his eyes and doesn't buckle under Josh's gaze. He turns to Johnny Boy and presses a kiss to his delicate nose. 

"Be brave." 

Josh nods with understanding and knows that the words are for everyone there. He does his best to offer Jenna the same comforts, even if only in his mind. 

Always a gentle girl, now especially fond of him, she licks in hand in wordless compliance. 

"Saddle up," Tyler says over his shoulder. 

Josh gets to work, so thankful he has the practice under his belt. Even in the dim lighting, he manages to ready Jenna for the ride. 

He finishes tightening her saddle strap and adjusting her reigns, just as he's about to step into the stirrups and mount her, Tyler calls out. 

"One second." 

Josh is confused, until he sees the dark jar in Tyler's hands again. 

Josh doesn't need to be given further instructions. He dips his hands into the paste and rubs it into Jenna's flecked fur. 

\--

They ride to the field slowly, side by side. 

Even after his eyes have adjusted to the dark, Josh can't really see or navigate. He trusts Jenna's instincts, though, and he trusts Tyler's plan, if there is one, even if he doesn't know all the fine details. 

They're been riding in silence when Josh speaks up in an attempt to distract himself from the ice chilling his veins. 

"Tyler," he says. 

"Hm?" 

"What were the dues?" 

Tyler comes back from where his mind has drifted to. 

"What?" he asks, the dark shape of his cowboy hat turning towards Josh. 

"What were the dues your family paid?" 

Tyler doesn't answer immediately. For a while, Josh just listens to the steady crunch of hooves on gravel and the rustling winds. 

Just when he thinks Tyler isn't going to answer, the cowboy speaks up. 

"We moved here to rent this land," he begins, voice low. "My parents did. They weren't rich, so it seemed like a fair deal. In exchange for living here, we agreed to farm and tend to the cattle."

"But we couldn't meet the quotas. My family, with our traditions… we weren't using modern ranching techniques. We wanted to be in tune with nature, and nature doesn't know shit about money and deadlines. We couldn't pay." 

Josh shivers, not sure if it's the night air or the story unfolding. He pulls his jacket tightly around himself. 

"They caught my mother and me showing the crops how to grow, by leaping with our brooms. They saw my father chant the cows into a trance to minimize their suffering, and they laughed and spat, until they made him spit blood. They'd cut off our utilities, threaten to do worse, and the debts just kept mounting."

Josh grips the reins tightly, his hands balling into fists. 

"There was more to the agreement we didn't know about. We didn't know we'd become serfs. My parents didn't know they'd signed away my virginity, my right to marry who I wanted later."

Tyler's voice becomes muffled. He tucks his scarf over his mouth before going on, and Josh can't blame him for needing the added protective barrier. 

"We tried to gather our friends for help, those of similar traditions, but everyone around here was afraid. One man showed my father the stump where his thumb used to be."

"Jesus," Josh breathes, and Tyler hums in agreement. 

"You were there for my primae noctis."

"I was," Josh whispers. 

"Jack couldn't handle the loss of control when I resisted, so he took everything from me. Almost everything." 

His voice is so tight, Josh expects it to snap. 

"My mother and I packed up and fled left dad behind in his grave," he says, forcing out the bitter words. "We took the horses and a few bags, leaving behind everything else, even our names." 

"And you came back?" Josh asks. 

"My mother remarried and repressed the memories. She moved on, but I could never forget the past. I couldn't. I couldn't."

By now, Tyler is practically spitting. Josh sees his form start to shake and he reaches over a hand to place on Tyler's knee. He can't soothe him entirely, no, but Josh does his best. 

Tyler breaths, and breathes, doing his best to gather himself. 

"I came back stronger." 

"You did," Josh agrees. He knows he has only an inkling of the power dammed up inside Tyler right now, the years of fury pooling up and threatening to spill out now. 

"There will only be two Almavivas tonight," Tyler says. "I think… I think we can handle Jack and his firsborn… Duke." 

"God," Josh says. "God, I hope so." 

The end of their conversation marks the end of the trail. He knows they've arrived when the horses come to a sudden stop before the gates. 

Tyler is quick to hop off and unlatch the gate, but as he's messing with the chain, he suddenly freezes. 

Josh doesn't like the onset of quiet. 

"W-what is it?" he asks nervously. 

Tyler's throat clicks. He breathes out through his mouth.

"The padlock is broken. They're here," he says. His voice is especially soft, now, and he opens the gate with care, tiptoeing so his spurs don't chatter either.

Tyler climbs back onto Johnny and leans over to Josh, quickly. He pulls him by his hoodie, pulls his face in for a final kiss. 

"It's time," he says when he releases Josh. 

Josh isn't ready by any means, but he blinks back the tears of fear blurring his vision. 

The winds have stopped, against Tyler's calculations. There's still dust, but the air is clearer than it has been the past day. 

With soft kicks, they urge the horses forward, to the barn, through its wide open threshold. 

The moment they step in, even though everything is pitch black, Josh knows there's something evil lurking here. 

The air feels colder. 

The hairs on Josh's arms rise from the cold, the anxiety, from everything entirely. 

A voice starts to talk, a low, chilling timbre, before they can see anything. 

"So nice of you to join us," Jack purrs. A Zippo lighter sputters and sparks to life in his hands, revealing a twisted halo of light around his face. 

He's in the middle of the barn, atop a horse, his smile gleaming. 

Josh doesn't like that Jack is the only visible figure, the only one atop a horse and confronting them directly. 

His eyes dart around the barn, futilely searching for anyone else. 

Tyler, though, remains still and silent in his saddle. 

Josh throws a glance over his way and sees that his face is turned down, hidden entirely by the wide brim of his cowboy hat. 

Dark hat and black paint, Tyler is the embodiment of the shadows he always sings about. 

"You were always pretty vicious," Jack goes on, his voice oily. "Can't believe you nicked me like that; tore a chunk right out of me." 

His laugh is dry, wheezing, devoid of any real humor. 

Tyler's face is still down. 

"You were always pretty stupid, too," Jack spits, his voice growing in volume. "Got your precious animals killed, and your father too." 

Josh sees Tyler's form begin to quiver again. Still, he doesn't make a move, doesn't speak a word. 

Jack sneers and his face twists into something ugly, but Josh doesn't see. He's still willing his eyes to open wider, to reveal anyone else in the shadowy enclosure. 

"And now, you'll get yourself and your lover boy killed too, stupid, stupid little-" 

"Shut up," Tyler barks, voice sharp, cutting the thick black in the barn. Josh's eyes snap back to Tyler, to Jack, bouncing between the two.

Tyler's still facing down, but his gun is out now, by his hip, aimed directly at Jack.

"Careful now," Jack warns, practically vibrating with menace. He pinches the lighter between thumb and forefinger, dangling it out towards the fences, the cows. "Wouldn't want me to drop this."

Just as Josh is piecing things together, as he's realizing that the hay underneath Jack's horse shines with something wet, a creature lunges at him from the shadows. 

Something metal, glinting, swings at him with a quiet whoosh, the result of speed and experience.

Somehow, by some miracle, the blow misses Josh entirely, but strikes Jenna instead. She whinnies and shrieks in pain, fear, unable to stop herself from bucking wildly. 

Caught completely off guard, Josh loses his balance. 

Josh hits the packed mud and feels all the breath rush out of him. For a moment, he's immobilized. For a moment, all he can do is watch Jenna flee in terror and Duke's boots stamp slowly into his vision. 

The candlelight makes the curved blade in Duke's hand sparkle, almost beautiful. It mirrors the spark from his gold tooth, the one revealed by his crooked smile. 

Josh cowers and wraps himself in his only shield, his arms, prayers for mercy, prayers to wake up, please wake up now, pounding through his skull. 

The slashing doesn't come. Instead, something heavy sits itself upon him and hands snake their way through his protective barrier. They latch onto his throat and don't let go. 

He wheezes, and kicks, but Duke is above him, grisly and smiling, choking him tightly. The fight is pointless; he's overpowered, so easily overpowered.

Josh's kicks become weak, sparse. He starts to grow still, his face becoming darker and darker from lack of air. 

Everything around him is frozen. Jack doesn't breathe a word, watching the chaos unfold. Tyler is frozen, too, frozen by the impossible decision. 

Josh grows still and his vision starts to fade to static. 

Everything around him happens at once, so fast, so fast. 

Josh hears a gunshot. Josh hears two gunshots. 

Suddenly, he can breathe again as Duke's figure on top of him grows limp. Josh tastes and smells and feels hot, hot mist paint his face, clouding his vision. 

He hears a firm thud on the ground. He hears the stamping of frightened hooves and the rush of equine breath. 

Josh isn't a fighter. Josh wants to vomit from gory mess atop him alone, Josh doesn't have a gun, so he uses the only tactic he's mastered. 

He lays still, with his eyes half shut, using every ounce of effort he has left to subdue his own breathing. 

He feels warmth start to erase the cool darkness. Things start to look brighter. He hears the clamor from the cattle, the animals becoming rowdy with alarm. He smells smoke.

He hears Jack purring and chuckling and indulging in his own narcissistic, sadistic monolog. 

The words are hazy, meaningless, because all Josh can focus on is the wet, pained breath coming from the ground across from him. 

"Looks like you made your choice," Jack's purring voice says, now closer, on the ground beside him, beside them. 

He hears shifting, he hears weak breath hitch like something's pressing against it. 

Josh waits. His fingers curl around the sickle Duke dropped beside him. Blade or handle doesn't matter, and he waits, he waits, knowing that the element of surprise does. 

"Lost your lover boy anyway, and your precious animals will be fucking steak in a few minutes. Now? Now I'm going to make you real pretty." 

Josh lunges from under Duke's body and swings blindly, viciously, with everything he has. 

By some miracle, he strikes Jack in the temple with the back of the blade. 

Jack is so startled, he immediately tumbles off Tyler's body, the knife he had pressed against Tyler's neck flying out of his hand and somewhere into the burning hay.

Josh rushes to Tyler immediately and searches for signs of life, for injures. He doesn't bother checking Jack his vitals, his priorities focused on Tyler's well-being.

There's a sliver of white against Tyler's neck, the paint peeled away by Jack's blade, but nothing more.

When his hands find sticky, hot, red oozing out of Tyler's abdomen, though, that's when Josh starts to break, starts to cry. 

"Tyler," he blubbers. "Oh Tyler."

He tears off his hoodie and presses it to the wound. 

"Tyler, are you with me?"

Tyler just gives him a weak smile, his gaze drifting, eyes focused elsewhere. 

"No, no, no," Josh blubbers pleading. "Stay with me." His hands cup Tyler's cheeks and try to stroke life, power, vibrancy back into his face.

With shaking arms, he wraps Josh in an embrace. Josh snivels into his shoulder. 

When Tyler's fingers start to crawl down into the back of his jeans, Josh can't reign in his confusion.

"T-Tyler-" he starts, but Tyler pulls the dagger out of his waistband in one swift motion. 

The next thing Josh hears is a deep, guttural cry of pain, and something heavy smashes into him from behind. 

Jack presses Josh into Tyler and Josh presses Tyler into the dirt. Tyler whimpers.

Josh uses all this strength to push the sagging load off his back. Jack rolls to the side, dagger plunged into his neck like a shovel in the dirt. 

He gurgles and speaks in blood, but his eyes have already lost their vigor. In a few moments, Jack goes silent. 

Josh cries out in relief and pulls Tyler up, into his arms, up off the ground. 

He carries him tenderly out of the barn, but Tyler pats his shoulder frantically with a weak wrist. 

"The animals," he chokes. "My animals." 

Josh speeds up and sets Tyler outside. Against all the alarms screaming in his head to just flee, forget about it, avoid the fire, save Tyler, he dashes inside. 

The fire has spread quickly during their scuffle, but he dashes inside anyway. 

There's one thing left he can do. 

Josh tears open all the latches and kicks open all the doors and screams, hollers, waves. 

The cattle start to flood out in fear, flames licking their heels and singing their fur, but they find their way out, instinct guiding them to safety. 

There's a stampede out of the barn and Josh cries, cries out in relief again, cries from the dark smoke stealing his breath and burning his eyes. 

He pulls his shirt over nose and mouth and returns to Tyler. He tries to pull him up, up to stand and get back to the house, but Tyler just stumbles, groaning with pain. 

Josh is frantic, hopped up on adrenaline, his caring nature kicked into overdrive, but he feels trapped, trapped. He doesn't know what to do with Jenna gone, with Johnny Boy d- 

Josh scoops Tyler into his arms and shouts into the night. "Johnny!" He whistles, too, hoping to catch the attention of the horse if his screams won't. 

Tyler's arms wind their way around Josh's neck, but he's shivering all over from the clamor, from everthing.

Johnny scuffles out from behind the barn, ears back, teeth bared. He's spooked, shell-shocked, but he's here. 

"Johnny," Josh pleads, Tyler's grip around his neck becoming weaker, threatening to slip. 

Streaks of tears cut into the red painting his face. 

"Johnny, please," he cries hoarsely. "We need to save Tyler." 

He takes a step forward to show the horse, to make him understand.

At that, Johnny goes still. He stay firmly rooted in his spot, even if his eyes are still wide. 

"Easy," Josh whispers, and steps up to the horse. He gently lays a palm again Johnny's flank, and when he doesn't jolt away, Josh deems it safe to step into the stirrup and scramble into the saddle, clumsy, with all the care he can manage, with Tyler still hanging on for dear life. 

Johnny remains steady, until Josh settles himself and kicks him into motion. 

Johnny gallops.

\--

Josh is too weathered to cry anymore. 

Tyler is out cold, in his arms like precious cargo in the front of the saddle. Josh's jacket is his bandage, wrapped tightly against the wound to keep it from bleeding anymore. 

His face is pink, purple from the sun breaking over the horizon, and so, so pale. His breath is steady, though, Josh's final hope. He looks almost peaceful, but the fight isn't over.

Johnny Boy walks along the road steadily. It's been an eternity, but Josh hasn't seen any houses, any cars to flag down and beg for help. 

He doesn't know where hospitals might be. He doesn't know if he can take Tyler without questions that might just get him killed later. He knows about conservative state laws. He doesn't know if there are hospitals nearby.

There are no tears left as darkness fades away. 

Josh is exhausted, physically, mentally. They've been ambling for hours now and he doesn't know where they're going. 

He left his own cell phone behind in all the rush, but as he's cursing himself for the thirtieth time for his lack of forethought, an idea hits his weathered brain. 

Josh's fingers creep into Tyler's leather satchel and he nearly drops the object he finds inside. 

His heart jumps. 

Josh flips open the ancient relic of a phone and scrolls through all the numbers. Finally, he finds one he thinks he can trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .................and so the battle ends...........
> 
> Yeah, that chapter title was pretty blunt, but I'm using only "Werewolf" lyrics to name these chapters, and it seemed fitting.
> 
> <3
> 
> More soon, conclusions soon!


	10. Look Back With No Remorses

Josh dreams of happy things. 

Tonight, it feels good to be surrounded by visions, memories.

The air is sticky and sweet, reminding Josh of honey and mesquite and happier times. 

People have gathered.

He recognizes their faces from darker dreams. 

Their expressions, though, are foreign. With their smiles unfurled, they look more beautiful than Josh remembers. 

Still, he remembers. 

It's the people from the funeral, including priest and priestess, mother and child, and the dead man - Tyler's father - with both his eyes still in tact. 

In fact, his eyes are bright now, vibrant, as he sings for the coven with a banjo in his lap.

They dance and dance, kicking up a dust storm to rival the one Josh experienced in his waking life. 

With their robes in every color imaginable, they look like flowers in flight. 

The child doesn't look stern. Tyler doesn't look stern here. 

He bubbles laughter until it hurts, the good kind of hurt. 

Laughter, chanting, singing, Tyler's tiny fingers grasping for his father's banjo so he can participate in the magic of music, those are the memories that visit Josh in the night.

He's grateful for that.

Josh traverses the faces, like a ghost peeping in on the celebration. They're concealed by shadows, revealed by the rolling flames of the bonfire. 

One gaze catches his attention. Solemn, smile lines less papery than Josh remembers. 

He knows this man was at the funeral.

He knows this man. 

They met on the first night. 

Josh, Josh knew this man would help them. 

\--

When Josh finally returns to the present reality, it's late in the afternoon.

After fleeing their crime, Josh wept and wept until he found Tyler's phone. 

Josh doesn't know about gunshot wounds, but he knows about bleeding out, about the fickleness of time. Josh knew, Josh knows that miles of untamed land stretch around the ranch. 

Josh knew hospitals would ask questions. 

He'd flipped through Tyler's recent contacts, and, matching the time and date with his own arrival at Blurryface Ranch, he knew this person would help him. Help Tyler. 

Remembering a kind smile that was rough around the edges to the untrained eye, he dialed the contact, "Dave".

Somehow soothed by jovial celebration and familiar faces in his dream, Josh wakes up on a cowhide sofa in the late afternoon feeling refreshed. He wakes to the smell of something peppery wafting in from the kitchen. 

"Good morning," a warm, low voice greets him. It's Dave, the older man with the glinting silver tooth. 

It's the driver, the one who delivered him directly to Tyler's ranch. 

He's standing in the kitchen with an apron bound around his hips. 

"I guess it's a little late for morning," Josh says absentmindedly as all the memories of the night before come rushing back to him. Before Dave can banter back, he adds, "How's Tyler?"

Dave turns back to his brew on the stove, one so old-fashioned that Josh can't really figure out how it works with electricity or gas. 

"Well," he says, his smile looking heavy with worry. "No better, no worse, but he's restin' up and that's the best thing for 'im."

Josh bites his cheek to hold in tears. He nods. 

"But I'm fixin' another cayenne pepper dressing. Gotta keep that wound clean," Dave says, stirring as if to underline his statement. 

Josh winces, but he knows the herb holds importance, despite its painful application. 

"Right."

"He was lucky," Dave goes on. "Blew right through him. Looks like it tore up muscle, the little fat he has, but if it'd hit an organ, he would've died in the saddle long before you called me."

Josh shakes his head to rattle the thoughts out of his head. He focuses on the thought of Tyler resting and growing. He focuses on the Tyler of his dreams, giggling with untainted happiness. 

Dave shifts the bubbling pot over to an open counter. 

"Gotta let this cool," he says. With a fatherly tone, one that Josh really needs right now, he says, "Go on in and check on him."

When he turns around, his eyes are soft, gentle. 

Josh stands hastily before his feelings start to spill over. 

Quietly, he presses open the door to the spare bedroom and peeps in. He's careful, so careful, not wanting to slam open the door and storm in on his worst fear.

But it's not. It's just Tyler, eyes closed and breath shallow, glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. 

Josh tiptoes into the room and kneels beside the bed.

He curls his fingers around Tyler's hand. It looks as frail as bird bones, peeking out of the too-large night gown Dave dressed him in when he arrived. 

Josh helped him beat out the blood stains in Tyler's shirt in a cold bucket of water after they'd tended to his wound. The manual chores sapped him of his remaining nervous energy. They allowed him to sleep.

Josh was thankful for that

Tyler stirs with a dry hiss from his throat. 

Josh leans closer. 

Through cracked, papery lips, Tyler whispers, "Josh, can I have a sip of water?"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence; Josh is already reaching for the tin cup of water on the bedside table. 

He holds it to Tyler's lips gingerly and Tyler gulps and gulps. 

Josh likes the sight. Josh thinks it means that Tyler must be full of life, or at least fighting to keep it that way. 

He finishes drinking and hisses again when he tries to sit upright. 

Josh winces for him.

"You should try to get some rest," Josh advises. Tyler, usually stubborn and eager to defy any command given to him, complies and relaxes into the soft cushions all around him.

Josh built the cocoon while Dave gathered his herbal first aid kit. 

"Where are we exactly?" Tyler asks with shut eyes. He's weak, but still curious. 

Josh takes it as another good sign. 

"I called Dave."

Tyler's eyes pop open again and Josh can tell his brow is wrinkled from more than just pain. 

"What?" his whisper is sharp, demanding. "Why the hell would you do that?! You can't get him involv-"

Josh, with his own exhaustion burning through, spits back, "It was life or death, Tyler."

A heavy silence hangs between them. 

Tyler's eyes aren't watery, but Josh thinks they will be once he's rehydrated. 

"Thank you," he says quietly, shedding his pride. 

Josh strokes a thumb over his knuckles. He's happy he can do that, feel bones under warm skin and nothing crumbling and falling apart. Tyler is instantly forgiven. 

There's a light rapping at the door frame and four eyes dart to Dave, standing timidly by the door frame. In his hands is the cooled pot of cayenne brew. Tuck in his armpit is a bundle of fresh gauze. 

"I'm glad you're awake, Tyler," he says, smile genuine, healing in itself. "I've come to change your dressing."

In the same hushed tone as before, Tyler says, "Thank you."

"Don't you mention it," Dave says, stepping in. Josh scoots to give him room, to allow him to set the pot on the bedside table. 

Tyler doesn't need directions. He lifts his nightshirt to reveal a wide patch of gauze tinged brown. 

Dave's hands are gentle. He picks the tape off first. He peels the bandage off quickly to minimize pain.

Josh has to turn away from the open sore on Tyler's abdomen, gaping, alive, like a screaming, bloodied mouth. 

Tyler's fingernails dig into Josh's palm and Josh squeezes back. 

His eyes are glued to Tyler's face while Tyler opts to watch the back of his eyelids. 

"First, we'll clean off the old stuff with witch hazel," Dave says, already wetting a rag with something clear and pure. Josh smells alcohol. Tyler does too, and his muscles tense, bracing for impact.

"It's going to sting, but it'll heal it up like nothing else," Dave mumbles. "But it's not like I have to tell you that. You know this stuff better than me."

Tyler's eyes pop open to blink, to ask questions, but the first thing to come out of his mouth is a choked whimper. 

Dave acts fast, chipping away crumbling bits of salve that have already done their work. 

Even after he relents, Tyler's still whimpering. 

Josh kisses his hand.

Tyler's fingernails draw blood when Dave tends to him with the fresh cayenne mixture. 

\--

Josh grasps Johnny's saddle horn, ignoring the red crescent moons in his hand. The sting is good, the sting is grounding and it's what he needs now, riding along the road by himself on the back of the horse who never wanted anything to do with him.  
The scene is too surreal and Josh spins the same thoughts over and over in his mind- how did he get here? How did a last-minute summer job, a message sent on an impulse land him here, on the saddle of a dark beast, trotting through arid land? 

Josh prefers those questions to the louder ones threatening to crumple his face and turn him into a mess of shaking sobs. Tyler, Tyler, Tyler, he can't focus on Tyler directly, but he can focus on Tyler's ranch and the cryptic insignias- sigils- slowly growing closer. 

Josh nudges Johnny's flanks and speeds him to a gallop as they reach the gate leading to Blurryface Ranch. 

They're so close and Josh needs to busy himself with work. Josh needs to get back to his duties as ranch hand, even without his boss to berate him, guide him, kiss him. 

He shakes his head again. 

Josh swings himself off Johnny's back and lands with a satisfying crunch in the gravel. The ground beneath his feet sways from the long ride and Josh wants to kiss the dirt. Instead, he opts to nuzzle his face into Johnny Boy's mane and plant a sneaky peck there. 

Johnny stirs, snorts, but accepts the affection. 

Before he can do anything else, Josh gathers wildflowers. He never really noticed them, with the prairies all around them looking dusky, almost grey in their barrenness, but there's a smattering of color along the porch, and Josh picks out all his favorites. 

He fans the bundle out across the freshly overturned dirt under the tree. 

Silently, he thanks Ruby and wishes her well. 

Somehow, Johnny remains solemn too. 

When Josh is ready, he takes a hold of Johnny's reigns and they make their way to the stable, side-by-side. 

The air around them is still and Josh feels goosebumps crash over him. It doesn't feel right here, without Tyler, without his lively force running the ranch. 

Josh does the best he can do. 

He empties a sack of barley to feed Johnny Boy. The commotion of grains clattering into the trough draws in another hungry beast. 

Scared initially, Josh reaches back to pat the knife tucked into his jeans, the one he won't forget now, not ever, but when a curious, long face peeks its way around the entrance of the barn, Josh's eyes well over with tears. 

He rushes forward to throw his arms around the horse's neck. 

"Jenna!" he squeaks, burying his face into her mane. She snorts and grunts, returning the sentiment in her own language. 

Josh trails his nails over her shoulders and finds something crusted, matted. He glances over to inspect, remembering her frantic cries during their battle, and finds a gash in her otherwise pristine coat. 

It's ugly, a rusted line across her body, but not deep, not threatening, that much he can tell. 

Josh buries his face and breathes in the scent of horse. He whispers his hallelujahs into Jenna's fur.

\--

Tending to Jenna and Johnny Boy is Josh's forte now, but the dispersed flock of cattle leaves him with a wrinkled brow and his lip tucked tightly between his teeth. 

He knows Tyler won't like the chaos. He knows Tyler will appreciate that his cows are alive and well. 

Even if he could round them up, though, the barn is now a charred skeletal structure, a shadow of its former self. 

Josh scans and scans the pasture, not sure where to begin, if he even can begin anything. 

If anything, the animals look more at peace now than ever before. In their natural element, they graze and graze and bray at one another with what Josh can only recognize as contentment. 

Before he trots off with Johnny Boy, he tosses the few saltlicks that survived the fire around the pasture. 

Josh does his best and returns to the ranch. 

\--

That night brings Josh a restless sleep, the kind that leaves him feeling raw and sandy-eyed. 

Josh clings to his phone and curses himself for agreeing to stay the night here alone, for agreeing that riding back to Dave's after dark would be a mistake. He curses his sense of duty, his adherence to his title as ranch hand. 

He tosses and turns every time the wooden floorboards settle. He jerks when the shadows in the corner of his eyes move. 

Taught with worry, he doesn't dream.

Josh holds onto his phone like a lifeline and waits for sunrise. 

\-- 

The next morning, Josh's anchor is Tyler's warm, clammy hand curled limply inside his own. 

Tyler was still sleeping by the time Josh returned to Dave's with Johnny Boy.

As Dave had told him that morning before he set off, there were no notable updates on Tyler's condition. Between waking to grit his teeth and drag his body to the toilet, Tyler had been sleeping, sleeping, sleeping and nothing more. 

Josh's gut was a tight knot the entire ride over. 

"There's something else we could do," Dave had added on the other end of the receiver, apprehension in his voice. Josh wanted to laugh, thinking back on circles and candles and chanting and singing. Dave's careful suggestion was nothing new to him, not by any means, but he didn't disclose any details, didn't press for any either. 

Josh simply nodded to himself and said, "Hey, I'll do anything if it helps Tyler," and rode miles and miles to return to his lover's safe haven. 

Josh's anchor is Tyler's warm, limp hand; his other anchor is Dave's rough, calloused hand, gripping his own tightly. 

Feet tucked underneath them, they're sitting side by side on the floorboards next to Tyler's resting form.  
There's a handwritten book in Dave's lap, but Josh's eyes can't focus on it. He's glued to Tyler, looking even paler, even weaker now than before. 

Josh bites into his cheek and ignores the wash of salt over his tongue. 

Dave mumbles and mumbles under his breath, his free hand scanning over the pages as he searches. 

Finally, he says, "Found it," and finally, Josh's head snaps over to the man. 

He forces himself to smile. 

"Are you ready?" 

Dave nods. Before going on, he asks, "Are you ready?" 

Josh nods quickly and shifts his gaze to the prayer next to Dave's index finger. 

In the dim, candlelight room, they start to chant. 

"May the shining light from deep inside," they say together, words overlapping and stuttering in some places. "Flow ever out and never hide." 

They chant until their words melt together into a singular hum. 

They chant until the words lose meaning, until a hazy halo clouds Josh's vision. 

\--

Josh awakens to the enticing sizzle of bacon, to Dave whistling a bright and cheery tune between his teeth. 

Despite the protest in his stomach, Josh tiptoes out of the living room and past the kitchen, straight to the spare bedroom. 

He doesn't bother to tap on the door, too eager to check on Tyler's condition. He pushes open the door full force. 

The sight he walks in on is unexpected. He startles and nearly trips over his socked feet. 

Sucking grease off his fingertips from the first slices of bacon, Tyler says, "Why so jumpy?" 

An impish grin tugs at the corners of his lips. 

"Shut up," Josh says, face already torn into a sunny smile. 

He wants to keep up their teasing banter, but he can't hold himself back. He pulls Tyler into his arms, into the gentlest embrace he can manage, and dotes him with kisses all over his face. The plate on Tyler's lap tips over onto the bed, soiling sheets with grease, but he doesn't care. Tyler mutters a half-hearted protest, but it doesn't matter.

Josh kisses Tyler's ear and sighs, "Thank God."

\--

Later in the morning, Dave enters the room with another fresh herbal brew in his pot. 

Josh is still by Tyler's side, fingers laced together, catching him up on the state of the ranch. 

"So, that's what I did with the cattle," he says, quickly rushing over to the next topic before Tyler can conjure up any kind of criticism. "But guess who I found at the stable?" 

Tyler's stronger, but still can't quite match Josh's enthusiasm. Still, he grins. 

"Jenna?"

Josh nods in affirmation. "Jenna." 

"Thank God," Tyler says, a quick breath of relief, before turning to Dave. "Here to doctor me up again?"

"That's right," Dave says, matching the cheer in the room with his own buoyant expression. 

Tyler lifts his shirt and Dave lifts his bandage. 

This time, Josh doesn't look away; he needs to see. 

Between the bits of dried cayenne paste, the wound is still grotesque, but the first signs of baby pink skin have begun to form. Healing skin. 

Tyler doesn't squirm when Dave soaks a rag in witch hazel. 

Josh buries his face into Tyler's chest. 

\--

As Josh tends to all their belongings with motherly care, packing up phones and weapons that still send a chill down his spine, Tyler and Dave talk in the bedroom, voices low but audible. 

Josh can't help but hear, despite his flurry of activity. 

"How long have you known?" Tyler says. Josh imagines him hiding beneath the brim of his cowboy hat again. 

"Didn't, really, until your boy dragged you over here and I got a closer look at you" Dave says in his warm drawl. "But I always knew you'd be back. Had an itchin' feeling." 

As Josh slides his knife out of his jeans and into Tyler's leather satchel, he can practically hear Tyler's smile from the adjacent room. 

"Thank you so much," Tyler's saying, fighting the quavering in his tone. "I don't even know where to start." 

Josh's chest feels tight. 

A solid clap, a palm against a clothed shoulder sounds through the thin walls. 

"Don't you start," Dave answers. "Just go on. Take care of yourself. Take care of the ranch and what you got with Joshua there."

Josh knows the scuffle must be an embrace. 

"Just remember," Dave adds, tone fatherly, laced with genuine care. "'And it harm none, do as you will.'"

Silence follows as Josh works on the laces of his sneakers. 

"The Almavivas…" Tyler starts, and just as Josh begins to feel dread seep into his bones, Dave interjects.  
"That's done now." 

"That's done now," Tyler agrees. 

A dragging step slides over into the living room and Josh looks up to Tyler, to Dave standing behind him. 

"You ready?" Tyler asks, and Josh smiles like the sun. 

"You bet." 

\-- 

The two of them on Johnny's saddle is a tight fit and the horse protests with dramatic grunts. 

Josh has to stifle his memories of the last time they shared a horse as they trot down Dave's driveway. 

With one parting glance shared in unison, Josh and Tyler turn around to wave at Dave, standing on the porch of his ranch house and smiling warmly. 

Smiles and waves and thankful goodbyes, they almost miss the final parting words he shouts after them. 

"What kind of name is 'Blurryface Ranch' anyway?"

\--

Even with Tyler in better condition than he has been since the night of the attack, Josh has to guide him up the stairs of the ranch house. His wound is still tender, raw, and Tyler has to drag his leg to avoid jabs of pain.

He leans into Josh as they take the steps one by one, stopping midway for Tyler to catch his breath. His face stays turned down, his cowboy hat a clever veil to hide his broken pride. 

With a sadness he can't quiet define, Josh thinks back on Tyler's usual springing up the steps. 

He knows it's all a matter of time and remains a gentle, patient guide. 

When they enter the cool darkness of the house, Tyler's face becomes placid and melts into something content and easy. 

Josh knows this is the final stage of his healing process. He knows Tyler will be okay, more than okay in his own home, with his animals, without constant threats looming over him now. 

With their hands linked again, Josh pulls him to the sofa. Together they ease into the cushions with quiet sighs. 

For a moment, they bask in silence. 

The floorboards around them creak and settle, but Josh doesn't jump, doesn't feel electricity in his veins. 

He hears Tyler huff, laughing at some kind of thought formed inside his mind. 

"What?" Josh asks, turning to look at him. 

Tyler takes the opportunity to catch his lips in a kiss. It's more delicate, more languid than expected, and Josh sighs from the sudden onslaught of affection. 

When they part, he almost protests. 

Curiosity gets the better of him. 

"What is it?" 

Tyler's still looking at him. His face is peculiar, but still amused from his silent joke. 

Finally, he speaks. 

"I can't believe I fell for a cityslicker like you." 

His statement follows with an eruption of laughter, the most violent one he can manage with the tender spot in his abdomen, and Josh grows red. 

"Shut up," he whispers, pulling Tyler in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Dave.....the.......dad........
> 
> This is technically the ending but technically not. I have a little epilogue brewing, hopefully something that will tie up any unanswered questions?! But, this is the conclusion to the plot... 
> 
> I've said it a million times and I'll say it a million times more, probably, because it just means so much to me: your comments on my little witchy cowboy fic have been SO wonderful, such a delight to read with every update. I love you guys so much! <3


	11. Ride into the Sunset

For weeks, it's still rough. 

Tyler can't do most of the work he's used to doing, not without a limp and a groan. His wound heals quickly, considering its gravity, considering everything, but he can't quite keep up with the chores on the ranch. 

Josh picks up the slack. 

Josh does his best to pick up the slack. 

Tyler loses his patience sometimes, waving and shouting on horseback. 

"Are you kidding me?" he'll yell, exasperated, as Josh loses another straggling bull in rounding up the cattle. The absence of Ruby doesn't help either. 

Josh just sticks out his tongue. Sometimes, he sticks out a flippant middle finger. 

For all his haughtiness, ingrained deep within his personality, Tyler makes up for it in post-work affection. 

Tyler's bed becomes Josh's bed. 

He doesn't explicitly give his thanks, but he expresses it with languid kisses and gently roaming hands, now with the lights on. 

Josh, always a caretaker, can't simply take without giving in return. His hands will skirt up Tyler's shirt and tease and tease. More often than not, they'll dip into the waistband of Tyler's briefs too, until the day Tyler stops him with a grimace. 

"No offense," he whispers, all rank tobacco breath, a taste Josh has quickly acquired. "Your hands are so rough." 

Weeks of extra mucking and riding and keeping the ranch running have left his hands feeling like sandpaper. 

Josh blushes. 

"Oh," he says. "Sorry, man." 

And Tyler laughs and massages calendula salve into his palms. 

Slicked up and unable to touch anything, Josh has other ideas. Just as Tyler's reaching over him to flick off the light, Josh suggests something. 

"Wanna take off your pants for me?" he says, eyes already half-lidded and heated with intention. 

"Hm?" Tyler says, "You'll make everything all greasy." 

Despite his reasoning, Tyler's already hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear. He's intrigued by the offer. 

"My mouth won't," Josh says simply, and with the inside of his leg, with the friction, he nudges Tyler's briefs down further, exposing the swell of his ass. 

Tyler grins and helps him peel them off the rest of the way. 

Josh smiles and smiles and kisses his way across Tyler's knees. He parts Tyler's legs with his elbows and kisses and kisses the insides of his thighs until Tyler squirms and whimpers. 

Only then does he plant him firmly in place between his folds. 

Between Tyler's legs, Josh finds his home. 

\--

One day, after doing his best to ranch and ride and feed cattle alone, Josh brings Tyler home a swaddled bundle. 

Tyler greets him with a grunt, his nose buried in a handwritten cookbook, as he's tossing handfuls of herbs and spices into a pot. 

Begrudgingly, he'd agreed to spend the day indoors and let Josh do most of the dirty work. Riding around on the previous days had irritated his wound and turned it a darker shade of pink, worrying Josh more than anything. 

Today, Josh brings home a gift for his loving partner. 

His voice is low as he cradles the bundle of cloth and fur in the crook of his elbow. 

"Hey Tyler," he says, his voice nearing a whisper. 

"Hm?" Tyler huffs, not bothering to turn around, too immersed in his cooking. 

Josh won't continue though. He stands there in silence, softly petting the wriggling bundle in his arms, until Tyler notices. 

Finally, Tyler sets his wooden spoon on the counter and tosses a glance over his shoulder. 

"What's up?"

"Well," Josh begins, teeth already tugging at his lower lip in anticipation. "I know nothing can ever replace Ruby, but uh…" 

The little bundle squeaks. 

Tyler turns around fully. He gapes.

"I found this pup out on the field," Josh hurries, words rushing out of him like a river. "And she just looked so scared and lost and in need of a new home and I figured… Blurryface Ranch might need another cattle dog… and she's just so sweet, and I was already thinking of names, like maybe, maybe Marjorie would suit her?" 

The flood ends abruptly when Tyler takes a few steps forward. He reaches his hand out to cup the furry little animal's face. 

His expression is hard to read. Josh knits his brows. 

When Tyler's eyes start to brim with tears, Josh inwardly punches himself for being so stupid. Tyler hasn't grieved Ruby yet, not properly, and this is digging up all the memories. 

"Oh, Tyler," he coos, "I'm so sorry, it's too soon, I should've kno-"

When a shriek of a laugh rips through Tyler, Josh's jaw snaps shut. 

Tyler laughs and laughs, clutching his stomach, the tears finally spilling over onto his cheeks. Josh is speechless, wide-eyed. 

"Tyler…?" he whispers. 

Tyler pulls in his laugh enough to get a few words out. Every other syllable is punctuated with a hiccup. 

"I can't-" he breathes, wiping his face. "I can't believe you brought home a fucking coyote." 

Josh feels his face grow hot. His eyes dart back to the pup in the crook of his elbows. Even with her ears flattened against her head in fright of all the commotion, all the signs are there. Sandy fur, a slender, fox-like face. 

Josh can't believe himself.

"Oh my God," Josh says, horrified. "Oh my God…" 

Tyler pulls him in to slap a wet kiss against his cheek. 

"You're so city you can't tell a coyote from a dog," he chuckles. "I love you."

"Love you too," Josh says, still stunned.

\--

Keeping the cattle tended is hard without a barn. 

Together, Tyler and Josh do their best to clean up the charred remains. Mostly, their work consists of Tyler pointing and Josh loading blackened wood and metal beams into the back of the tractor trailer. 

Hard work, everything seems to be going smoothly until they find crumbling bones, human and animal. 

Josh, despite his protective layer of leather gloves, despite channeling all his will into getting the job done, Josh picks up a chipped femur and drops it. 

He drops to a squat and dry heaves between his knees. 

Tyler, no derision present, places a hand on his shoulder and rubs and rubs. 

"I'll take care of the bones," he says, and Josh squeezes his hand in appreciation. 

Once they've cleaned up, the barn is entirely gone, save for a large circle of ash in the field of grass, and the cattle roam freely. The animals themselves don't mind, but Tyler prods Josh for weather reports each morning, fearing destructive storms for his unprotected flock. 

"What, you don't have a weather app on your phone?" Josh teases. 

Tyler rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever." 

"Sunny skies," he adds, tapping around on the glowing device. Tyler claps his hands together in relief. 

It's only after a phone call from Dave checking in on Tyler's well-being that get the help they need. Tyler mentions the lack of barn in passing, and Dave, always ready to lend a helping hand, pulls some strings. 

Josh, to his own chagrin, hasn't been able to help. He isn't a carpenter by any means, not even close, but the townspeople have experience in all kinds of manual labor and they're the ones who get Blurryface Ranch back to working order.

The families are small, but they each lend some lumber, some labor. The framework of a barn starts to unfold more and more with each passing day. 

First, their expressions roam Tyler's face with little interest, but when they get closer, when Tyler gives them a curious look, they clasp their hands over their mouths in shock. 

"I never thought I'd see you again," one woman says, taking a hold of his hand. 

"How's your mother?" another asks. 

"I knew there was somethin' familiar about you," one man says with a smile full of holes. 

Dave clued them in. Dave shared the details. No one speaks above a hushed whisper when it comes to the fate of the Almavivas, only looking at Tyler with appreciation. Some look with fear, too, but Tyler puts on his best smile to ease their worries. 

Josh punctuates it with one of his own radiant grins. Somehow, the friendly ranch hand helps ease their tension the most. 

"Thank you so much," a girl says to Tyler one day, too young to have really known him before his family fled. Still, her voice is heavy with conviction and her eyes are dark and serious. "For what you did."

Tyler has to turn his head away from her to hide his misting eyes. He mumbles a quick, "No problem," and Josh wraps an arm around his shoulder for support. 

By mid-August, the cattle barn is nearly entirely re-born. 

\-- 

One evening, over another dinner of bean stew, Tyler fires a question at Josh, point-blank.  
"Did the dreams stop?"

Josh stops munching on beans and looks up from the phone at his side. 

"They did," he says. He squints briefly and digs back into his memories of recent nights, but his dreams have resumed their previous fleeting randomness. "Yeah, they definitely did." 

Tyler says quiet, spooning stew into his mouth. 

"Why did they start to begin with?" Josh asks, actually relieved Tyler thought to bring up the topic. 

"Hm," Tyler says, pausing for a moment. He chews beans, he chews words. "Guess you were just really in-tune with me. I had the same dreams, you know, but they made sense for me to have."

He kicks Josh playfully under the table.  
"Maybe your crush was so strong that you tapped right into my brainwaves." 

Josh huffs. 

"More like your crush on me."

At that, Tyler chuckles and casts his eyes downward, suddenly bashful. 

"So, uh," Josh continues. "It wasn't because I ate the weird witchy salt on my nightstand or whatever?" 

Tyler rises out of his seat and takes his empty bowl with him. He turns around and heads to the sink to wash it out. 

Just as Josh thinks an answer won't come, Tyler throws a glance over his shoulder. 

"Anything's possible." 

\--

The night before Josh's flight home, Josh and Tyler distract themselves from the inevitable painful departure by teasing each other relentlessly. 

Tyler doesn't have reliable transportation to take Josh to the airport, so they opt for calling Dave again. 

"What do you mean you can't use my phone?" Josh says, already doubling over with laughter. "Are you trying to tell me you have an ancient flip phone because you don't even know how to use a smart phone?" 

Tyler turns a deep shade of red, one that Josh hasn't seen him wear often. He knows he's struck a nerve. 

"Look!" he says, throwing his hands up. "It's more complicated than you think!"

"Oh my god," Josh says, still giggling. "You can't use a smart phone." 

Tyler pushes away his own phone, the screen and battery dead, and lurches for Josh's phone. 

Josh pulls it just out of his reach. 

"Before you show me how you can't use my phone," Josh says, "tell me how you posted an ad online? Laptops are the same concept, man." 

Tyler doesn't ease up with his grabbing. He stretches his arms and splays his fingers and reaches and reaches for the phone, but their entangled position on the couch means he's still just an inch out of reach. 

"Dave," he murmurs, eyes intent on the prize. "Dave helped me."

Josh pokes out his tongue at that. 

"You mean to tell me that you, striking young man, had to have a 60 year old man help you post an ad online?" Finally, he bends his wrist and lets his phone drop into Tyler's hand. 

"Okay, shut up and use your eyes for just a second," Tyler says, his own eyes already fixed on the screen. 

Josh's giggling wears down and he leans into Tyler to look at his phone screen. 

With the backlight dancing over his face, Josh says, "Oh shit." 

Tyler hasn't done anything other than unlock it, but it's flipping wildly through apps, static and snow clipping across the screen every so often. 

Tyler drops the phone back into his hands and it finally stills on the home screen. 

"Feel like an asshole now?" Tyler says, planting a kiss on Josh's cheek with a wet smack. "It's not that easy for some of us."

Josh is still wide-eyed, stunned. He stares at his phone and taps open his usual apps, checking to make sure they still work. 

"Dave's older," Tyler says quietly. "His energy's weaker, so…" 

"Yeah," Josh says. He turns to stare at Tyler, a mixture of intrigue and adoration forming heavily in his chest. 

He leans over to give Tyler kisses where words feel empty. 

When they break apart, Tyler says softly, "Call him." 

\-- 

Josh doesn't remember the city being this overwhelming. 

From the moment he steps on the plane, everything feels claustrophobic, with the voices of hundreds of people penetrating his skull. 

He doesn't realize just how still and serene Blurryface Ranch was until he's crammed into a tin can with all these people, chattering about him, with engines roaring, with input crashing over all his senses. 

The sentiment only becomes stronger, he only becomes more frantic, as he's weaving through the crowds to get to baggage claim. 

Josh already misses wide open spaces stretching as far as the eye can see and arms wrapped around him tightly to tether him back to the earth. 

At the airport, his mother offers him some of those comforts. She hugs him until he thinks he can't breathe and plasters him with smooches until he's red in the face. 

"Mom," he whines, sounding juvenile again, already transported back to his youth in her presence. 

"Oh honey!" she's squealing, "You have to tell me absolutely everything! Did you have a nice time?"

His smile is a mixture of sweet and melancholy.  
"Yeah," he says quietly, linking arms with her as they head out to the carpark. "You could say that." 

\--

The city is bustling. The city is fast. Going to the grocery store has Josh in a daze at first, with the flurry of activity and bright lights. It takes an unexpected amount of adjusting to merge back into the speed of everyday life in L.A.

Josh only has a week until he'll be back in his classes. His friends are overjoyed at his return and flood him with Facebook messages, texts. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see them, but his interactions with them feel incomplete, like something's missing. 

Grabbing drinks with Debby and Jesse feels surreal and leaves him pinching his own arm to make sure he's awake. No matter the enthusiasm he tries to conjure, mirror back at his friends, something feels stale. 

They want details. They want pictures of his gritty Western adventure. They punctuate their questions with allusions to Clint Eastwood films. 

Josh can't really go into any of the stories without revealing anything incriminating, without digging around in the tender spots of his heart. He has to cover his twitching mouth when he pulls out a shaky picture of Jenna's nose. 

When Jesse goes to stumble his way through the gyrating crowd to fetch them another round of beers, Debby scoots in close. Perceptive as always, she lays a doting hand on his knee with no ill intentions. 

"Everything okay?" Josh reads off her lips, the music too loud for him to actually hear her.

He nods and scratches at the label of his empty drink with his thumbnail. 

"Did you meet someone while you were gone?" she offers, louder this time. Her brows are knotted with genuine concern. "Because you're acting weird."

"I did," Josh murmurs at the bottle in his hands. 

"Who?" she presses. 

"My boss," Josh admits, somehow feeling lighter with his confession. 

Debby's lips quirk and she can't help but murmur something inaudible about falling for a cowboy, something about the cuteness of it all. 

Louder, she tells him Tyler should fly in for a visit. 

Josh casts her a small smile. 

\--

It doesn't take too long for the first letters to reach his mailbox. 

Phoning isn't always the easiest, at least not for considerable lengths of time, with Tyler's strenuous relationship with technology messing up all their calls. 

If anything, conversations cut short right in the middle of loving words feel more taunting and cruel than no conversations at all. 

Tyler, though, he'd asked for Josh's address before he left, just in case, and the letters follow a few days after Josh's arrival in his hometown, before their phone calls get dropped five times in fifteen minutes. He'd known. He'd crafted a clever back-up plan to keep contact. 

Josh reads the letters and re-reads the letters until a new one arrives. 

They always end with geometric sigils, their purposes scribbled underneath in brackets. Protection, health, success, love; Tyler inks the space below "Love, TRJ" with the little doodles every single time. 

Josh seals his own letters with stickers of aliens and galaxies and sparkly slogans, reading "you're out of this world!". 

On his way to the post office, and later, on his way to classes, Josh daydreams about Tyler's eyes rolling and his cheeks flushing pink. 

It holds him over. 

\--

If the city felt fast and bustling to Josh after his brief while away, it feels even more overwhelming to Tyler. 

Most of the car ride to Josh's place, Tyler presses his cowboy hat to his chest like a shield. Wide-eyed, he scans and roams the towering buildings around them, taking in the endless flow of businesses, neon capitalism, and people. 

As Josh's mother chatters from behind the wheel, bubbling over with cheer at meeting her son's first serious romantic interest, Tyler does his best to dab away the small beads of sweat decorating his brow with a red bandana. 

Josh squeezes his hand. When he notices Tyler's smile growing evermore strained, he tucks a finger under his stubbly chin and pulls him in for a reassuring kiss. 

Laura clicks her tongue at that and can't contain herself.  
"You two are so adorable!" her voice rings out inside the car. 

Tyler turns red. 

\--

Josh does his best to make Tyler feel welcome when he takes him out to meet his friends. 

They enter the bar with their hands clasped tightly together. Tyler uses his free hand to fiddle with his bolo tie, almost too preoccupied to really take in the setting. 

Almost. 

When it hits him, he can't help himself. He gives Josh a soft shove. 

"What the hell?" he has to shout over the country tune blasting out normal conversational volume. 

Josh shrugs, looking sheepish. He doesn't understand Tyler's disdain. If anything, this is the place for him, the ideal location for a cowboy looking to have a fun night out on the town. 

"Thought this would be your thing," he says, shrugging again. Before Tyler can finish his retort, something about stereotypes and caricatures, Josh is already pulling him into the crowd, towards a familiar gaggle of faces. 

"Guys," Josh says, unable to contain his beaming. "This is Tyler." He releases Tyler's hand and nudges him forward. 

The group matches his beaming, having been so eager to match a face to the name for weeks, months. 

Tyler is sheepish now. He removes his hat and places it over his chest, again, again more of a shield than an act of good manners. 

"Howd- Hi," Tyler says, catching himself. "Tyler," he repeats, extending his hand to each of Josh's friends, a gesture so foreign to the L.A. population that the first person in the round, Jesse, almost doesn't know what to make of it. 

When it clicks, he smiles and shakes his hand with vigor. Somehow, Josh's friends are charmed and Josh is immediately relieved.

They wedge themselves into the crowded seating area and Debby slides them over their beers, already melting condensation into the round, rustic table. 

She shoots off the first question. 

"How are you liking L.A., Tyler?" she asks, leaning forward on one hand. 

Tyler shifts, picks at a hang nail. Josh slides an arm around him to cocoon him, to give him the sense of security he might lack. 

"It's big," Tyler shouts back. "Loud and impressive for sure." 

Debby can't argue with that.  
"And what about this place? Does it remind you of home?" she says, gesturing at to the movie poser for 'Rio Bravo', framed beside her. Her manicured fingernails pick at the cowhide upholstery of the booth she's sitting in. Tyler can't help but hide his face in his hands. 

Josh fills in for him, face still torn wide in a grin.  
"He says it's bordering on cultural appropriation." 

Debby can't help but grin back. 

\-- 

Alcohol loosens Tyler's inhibitions, and at some point in the night, he finds himself wrapped around Josh rather than participating in the group conversation. He seems at ease thought, like putty in Josh's arms, and comfortable enough to kiss and nuzzle his way into Josh's collar bone in the public venue. 

Josh tries his best to retain his composure. He catches Tyler's lips in quick kisses, causing Jesse or Debby to whistle or exchange knowing glances, but he tries to keep most of the heat pooling in his stomach to himself, at least until they've called an Uber to take them home.

Tyler's nuzzling is disturbed by the general booing of the bar, the booing of the crowd gathered around the ring in the middle of the bar. 

He pulls himself away from Josh's neck and rolls his eyes. 

"This is ridiculous," Tyler says, rising from his seat so quickly that he almost knocks over all of their beers with his momentum. Josh steadies the table with one hand to the best of his ability. He tries to reach for Tyler's hand, to steady him too, but Tyler's already stamping off, the rattle of his spurs quickly lost in the crowd. 

Josh darts after him. 

When he catches up with him, Tyler's hand is cupped around the ear of the DJ. The man gives him a thumbs up, and Tyler, blushing pink from his tipsiness, nods back. 

Josh tries to worm his way through the crowd, eyes glued on Tyler snatching off his bolo tie, unbuttoning his shirt. Josh can almost reach out and touch him by the time he's done knotting the tail ends of his shirt at his midriff. 

They make eye contact and Tyler gives him a wink. Instead of taking Josh's extended hand, he stuffs his rolled up bolo tie into it. 

"Tyler-" he ties to shout, but Tyler's already slipping under the ropes tethering off the ring from the crowd of people gathered around it. 

Josh opts to grip the rope, to steady himself as he helplessly watches Tyler stamp his way to the mechanical bull in the center of the ring. 

Tyler swings his leg over the bull's back with the same grace Josh has seen time and time again back at the ranch, but for some reason, perhaps the alcohol in his system, ends up seated backwards on the bull.

Josh's stomach churns with anxiety. 

The crowd laughs, jeers, but Tyler throws another wink at Josh and sticks his thumb in the air. A tone sounds and the bull starts to rock. 

Josh wants to hide his face with his hands. He doesn't, though, and his eyes are glued to Tyler as he braces for the worst. 

Josh should've known better. 

The bull rocks slowly and Tyler rocks with it, completely unfazed. His knees squeeze around its body and he stays firmly rooted in the saddle. 

If anything, he looks almost bored. Josh feels relief, until the beat of the garish country song remix drops and the DJ flips a switch. 

The bull lurches faster. 

Josh almost wants to hop the fence, but he doesn't. If anything, his jaw falls open and stays that way throughout Tyler's performance. 

Tyler's knees grip the mechanical bull like a vice. He moves in time with its jerky gyrations, still unfazed, and if anything, having fun with the increase in difficulty. 

He swings his arms above his head and his torso undulates with the beat, with the bull, with the skill of years and years of horseback riding under his belt. The crowd around Josh is nearly as stunned as he is, but they're on board, cheering at the show unfolding before them. 

The DJ flips another switch and the bull jerks faster yet. Tyler still doesn't fall off though, bucking his hips in waves over the struggling robotic creature. 

With every spin, now faster than before, he catches Josh's gaze. When their eyes lock, Josh feels more heat stir inside him. Tyler, bucking so smoothly, gracefully, like this is a dance rather than a struggle, his pouty lips parted, the tiny trail of hair on his stomach exposed- Josh finds the display borderline pornographic. He swallows dryly. 

When the music ends, the bull gently comes to a stop. 

Tyler swings himself off its back in one smooth motion and takes a bow before his adoring fans. The DJ mutters something passive aggressive into the microphone, but praises Tyler for his endurance. Josh can't focus on the words, though, he can only focus on Tyler stamping his way back into his arms. 

Radiating heat with a fine shine of sweat over his face, Tyler wraps Josh in a firm embrace. 

"Jesus," Josh breathes, "That was incredible." 

Tyler cradles Josh's face in his hands.

"I can give you more of that later," he says, eyebrows already twisting into a suggestive expression. He pulls Josh into heated kiss, one that gets the crowd near them jabbering wildly again. 

Josh's broad grin nearly breaks their kiss apart. 

\--

The only thing stopping them from wrapping each other in another round of heat, panting, a physical manifestation of their love, is the exhaustion of their bodies. 

Instead, Josh buries his face in the crook of Tyler's armpit, his smile in line with one faded scar. His thumb gently strokes the fresher one, the tattered dip, still pink and forever deeply embedded in Tyler's abdomen. 

Tyler doesn't flinch. He's completely at ease like this, every facet exposed. 

Tyler rolls a cigarette between his fingertips, half-way smoked. 

When Josh raised his eyebrows at the pack of Marlboros in his backpack, Tyler reasoned that it would be more polite to smoke in the city than chew and spit dip. Josh quickly agreed. 

Now, laced together in bed, Josh breathes in smoke and Tyler's sweat, trying to preserve them in his mind for later, when he knows their absence will be sorely missed. 

He almost nods off to the gentle rocking of Tyler's chest with every breath. 

"Josh," Tyler says, bringing him out of his hypnagogic state. 

"Hm?" Josh replies, groggy already. 

"Josh," Tyler says again, this time something heavy in his voice. Josh doesn't like the sound of it. He lifts his head. 

Eyes tired and pensive, Tyler says, "We can't keep doing this." 

"What?" Josh says, already knowing the answer. He wants to hear it out loud, though, the certainty of Tyler's intentions. 

"This long-distance shit. This… this is going to hurt us more and more in the future," he says, rattling off the words so quickly that Josh knows he's been rehearsing them in his head the whole time.

Almost choking on the lump in his throat, Josh forces himself to nod. He forces himself to say, "You're right." 

\-- 

Josh buries himself in his schoolwork to distract from Tyler's absence. He buries himself in classes and extracurriculars and extra-credit to distract from the massive gorge in his chest. 

When his days feel too grey and he can't stand the ache, he jogs and runs until the burning in his legs and lungs overpowers his burning emotions. 

Every night, he falls into bed, exhausted, almost instantly sinking into sleep before his mind can linger on longing and other painful feelings. 

Almost. 

Every night, before drifting off, he trails his fingers over the small torn note, the last series of geometric symbols Tyler left on his bed before he returned to his home in the wild, wild west. 

\--

Josh doesn't attend his own graduation. Despites his mother's protests, he chooses to have the university mail him his diploma, and opts out of the celebration. He tells her his money is better spent elsewhere. Somehow, she understands that, and gives his temple a warm kiss. 

Josh doesn't feel in the mood to celebrate. 

\-- 

Josh chooses to save his celebrations for his reunion with Tyler, instead. 

He tugs and tugs at his monumentally heavy suitcase as it tries to travel away on the conveyor belt for another round. 

Two tanned, calloused hands reach over and help him pull it off entirely. 

"Jesus, what'd you bring with you? Bricks, mortar?" Tyler chides. 

Josh can't say anything biting. He throws his arms around Tyler and buries his face in Tyler's neck, breathing deeply, taking him in with all his senses. 

Tyler squeezes him back with the same level of desperation. 

"C'mon you two," Dave urges them. "Save it for the ranch. We gotta get out of here before traffic gets bad." 

\-- 

"Of course you had to be cryptic about it," Josh says with one cheek stuffed full of beans. They taste like home. He welcomes every bite. 

Tyler seems unusually bashful at that. 

"I'm sorry," he says, twirling his fork around in his meal without scooping anything into his mouth. Eyes trained on the chili, Tyler says, "I'm not great with expressing my feelings." 

Josh gives him a warm smile, no malice present.  
"Good thing I was able to Google what you wrote," he says. "Runes kind of caught me off guard. But it took me like, a day, to figure out that you were inviting me to come live with you." 

Tyler mirrors his smile with a hint of indignation. 

"I almost forgot about Google. Kinda worried myself sick there, thinking you wouldn't get it." 

Josh pokes out his tongue. 

"I'm not stupid. I'm learning more and more about you, oh mysterious cowboy." 

Tyler gently nudges his shin under the table with a socked foot. 

\--

Josh always knew he'd move away from L.A. at some point, probably after college, but he never thought he'd move out to a ranch in the middle of nowhere and find his happiest self on the back of a horse. 

Tyler is fully healed, physically, so they complete the ranch duties together now, side-by-side, with Josh becoming more and more competent with each passing day. 

He's not a natural, not by any means, but he remembers Dave's words from the first night clearly: "Anyone from anywhere can learn to ride a horse." 

He figures the same is true for cattle ranching.

Loneliness isn't an issue. The distance of his family, his mother, everything Josh grew up with, is something Tyler sometimes brings up as they're nestling into the bed with a post-coital rush still coursing through their limbs. Josh is the one to soothe him. He'll tap a kiss on Tyler's nose and assure him that this, what they have, is what he wants. 

And he reminds Tyler that there's a spare bedroom and that his friends are all eager to see the adventures Blurryface Ranch has to offer, firsthand.  
Tyler will crinkle his nose and smile and, despite his introverted nature, say, sure, sure, they're welcome anytime. 

Josh looks forward to that. 

After another day of hard manual labor, Tyler and Josh meander back to the ranch on horseback just as the sun starts to set. 

Tyler leans over and places a hand in his path. Josh tugs Jenna's reigns until she halts. 

"Hm?" Josh looks over at Tyler with a curious expression. 

"Would you look at that," Tyler says, mesmerized, though he's not looking at the dusty pinks and oranges spanning the sky. He's staring at Josh.

Josh smiles. So caught up in Tyler's gaze, he almost misses Tyler fidgeting with something inside his bag. 

When he pulls out the object, Josh's head swims. 

"Josh, I've been meaning to ask you something," Tyler starts, his words tight, strained. He's been rehearsing this, too, and Josh would be lying if he said he hadn't played out this same scenario in his own mind a time or two.

Josh bites his tongue to avoid from shouting the answer to the question he knows is going to come. 

"What is it?" he says simply. 

Tyler stares and stares, a curious expression on his face. Josh waits patiently, wanting to soothe him, wanting to ensure him his anxiety is misplaced. He smiles gently.

Finally, Tyler goes on. 

"Uh," he starts, leaning over to reveal the small, shining object in his hand. "Josh, will you marry me?"

Josh takes Tyler's hand, cradling it in his own. 

"Of course," he says, tracing the small silver ring in Tyler's palm. He looks up with shining eyes. "Of course I'll be your pardner." 

Tyler's face breaks into a wide grin. 

"Shut up," he says, and before Josh can shoot anything back, he leans over further, balancing himself with one hand gripping the saddle horn, and brings his lips to Josh's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^) Sorry I got corny there, but I promised a happy ending, and a happy ending I did deliver. 
> 
> As always... thank you guys so so so much for joining me on this little cowboy adventure of mine. It was SO fun to write so I'm so glad y'all got a kick out of it too! 
> 
> I'm stalk-softly on tungle dot com, if you want to join all the people tagging me in cowboy memes aösldkjgölkj. 
> 
> <3


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